The Eleventh Hour
by Anonymous Void
Summary: Sequel to ShadowMajin's War of the Seven Clans. Batman has only just reclaimed Gotham when he finds himself under attack once more. A conscienceless crime will take the Dark Knight through a gauntlet of horrors that may spell the end to his crusade on crime and the legacy of Batman itself.
1. Paying Respects

Author's Note: And here we are, the next installment that I know some people have been waiting for since _War of the Seven Clans_. I'd like to give credit for this story's title to an anonymous _Guest_, who suggested it in a review for _The Eighth Sin_. Quite frankly, both ShadowMajin and myself fell in love with the title and now we're using it. As for what this one's about, it's definitely something that has been in the works for some time, perhaps longer than anyone realizes. Hopefully by the end, it all comes together, but until then, enjoy.

Disclaimer: We do not own Batman

Warning: language, violence, death

Paying Respects

There was a soft, caressing breeze blowing. It caused the manicured grass to sway in waves, the blades waving to one side before returning to attention, only to repeat. There was a tree nearby, its leaves ruffling from the wind.

The hem of a dark coat was pulled as well, though it didn't billow out. It didn't move far from its wearer as he stood in silent contemplation. Before him were rows upon rows of tombstones, polished and gleaming in the morning sun. Sunglasses protected his eyes as he focused on one tombstone in particular.

Bruce Wayne gazed at the smooth stone, noting it had been well cared for even after all of this time. In his hand, a pair of roses were held, their red petals standing out at the solemn scene. Their thorns had been expertly clipped, so he was able to hold them barehanded. Kneeling then, he placed them before the grave.

When his parents had been murdered, the entire city had mourned. There had been calls for extravagant pageantry and a grave marker that marked their final resting place opulently. Bruce vaguely recalled the designs placed before his eight year old eyes, statues of angels and columns. In retrospect, it would have been a sight to behold.

Eight year old Bruce, however, had chosen something simple. Though it was one of the larger markers in the cemetery, standing nearly as tall as he was now, it was of smooth, polished stone and not much else. Its only adornment was of the family crest, the embellished W at the top of the marker. At the lower third were two small rectangles, one favoring the left side and the other the right. One rectangle held the name Thomas Wayne along with the years of his life, the other with Martha Kane Wayne.

If Bruce thought hard enough, someone had expressed disappointment in his choice, but they had been firmly removed by a stern Alfred. In fact, he was certain everyone involved in this morbid business had been hoping to make some money on his parents' death, from the funeral director to city officials. Alfred must have run interference to shield him from such people to protect his broken mind and world.

All these years later and he found himself doing the same thing. He would stare at the gravestone, as still as a statue. On occasions he had heard people talk to the markers, something he had tried one or twice, but never found to be comforting. Andrea had spoken to her mother's stone-one that was two or three plots behind his parents'-and you would have thought she could hear every word her mother said.

A bubble of dark humor welled up within Bruce. There had to be some sort of irony in him finding a potential wife in a graveyard.

It had been a long time since he had visited. The events of last year had proven to be time consuming. The clean up from Pamela Isley's attack on the city, as well as Bane's war with Ra's al Ghul, and the U.S. government's destruction of all the bridges connecting Gotham to the outside world was nearly complete. All of the rogue plantlife had been removed, save for a few areas in which the vegetation took over desolated neighborhoods. The city had taken the opportunity to turn them into parks, which wasn't an entirely bad idea.

As for the bridges, the last one had been completed repaired two months ago. That was the official end to Gotham's isolation, an event celebrated throughout the city, and surprisingly the state. Government officials that had originally backed the quarantine had been removed from office be it by the recent election, or by the recently removed officials firing others in a poor attempt to save themselves. There was a new state governor, a new city mayor, and prominent figures just to name a few.

As for Bruce, his body was completely recovered from the injuries he had received from Bane. His last check up with Leslie Thompkins had given him a clean bill of health, at least if you ignored the other nightly damage he did to his body.

However, just because he was getting back to normal didn't mean everything was well. Cassandra was drawing away from him, he could see the distance growing with every day. Though she lived in the manor, their interactions were few and far in between and he wasn't sure how to repair that gulf. On top of that, she was patrolling the city solo. He had kept a sharp eye on her movements that first night, always staying out of eyesight, but keeping her in his. As the months went by, he found himself watching her less and less as she proved she could take care of herself.

The other vigilantes were keeping up their Network, the group they formed in his absence. Though they had largely returned to their original teams of the Birds of Prey and Batclan, they still kept each in the loop of their activities, even going so far as to involve each other in their missions.

The only one not participating was him. With Cassandra on her own and Huntress returning to the Birds, Batman was once more a solo act. It was strange after all of this time and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it.

For all the people around him, somehow he ended up being the one lonely in a crowd.

Taking note of the shortening shadows around him, indicating the sun had risen higher into the sky and an indeterminable amount of time had passed, Bruce felt it was time to leave. Yet, he couldn't find it in himself to simply leave.

"I'm...sorry...it's taken so long to visit," he said stiltedly, if not uncomfortably. See what he meant by not liking to talk to slabs of rock? "Things got out of hand lately and I've been busy. I'll...try to come again...soon. Much sooner."

Alright, his awkwardness was getting to be too much. Inclining his head once to his parents' grave, he then turned to his left and began to leave, walking back to the gravel pathway. The path would lead back to the entrance of the cemetery, where he had left his car.

There was one more flower inside the car, one he hadn't taken with the roses. There was one more grave he needed to visit, one on his way home.

* * *

The Atlantic Ocean was a sprawling body of water, a deep blue that stretched from horizon to horizon almost endlessly. Clear skies where hardly a cloud in the sky made it appear desolate, a nightmare for anyone who found themselves trapped in it.

A Learjet raced over it, travelling at speeds that were a mere parlor trick for it to accomplish. The ride inside of it was smooth, no turbulence to be felt anywhere inside of it. To afford such an aircraft would be a triumph, but for the sole passenger, it was pocket change.

Relaxed in a seat, a nondescript man who you would lose in a crowd if you took your eyes off of him, sat before a large laptop computer, his hands intertwined while his brown eyes bored into the monitor. His body was contained in an unbuttoned black jacket, a gray turtleneck peeked out and lovingly wrapped around his neck. Dark slacks clothed his lower body, completing an ensemble that spoke of comfort and casualness.

"Greetings, all," the unremarkable man greeted to the computer. On the lit up screen, six small windows greeted his eyes, one completely dark while the remaining five held the darkened silhouettes of five individuals. "By answering this call, you are the first five to respond, and thus I extend to you an invitation for the next game. Yes it is that time of year again, and this year, I bring to you the greatest one yet."

"That is what you said last year," a gruff, accented voice refuted. The dialect was peculiar, definitely of Middle Eastern origin. "What I saw was...adequate but not impressive."

"I found myself entertained," replied a reedy voice, one of the silhouettes moving in his window, making himself comfortable. "There were a few novel events. Even with the outcome being predictable, I left satisfied."

"I see such things daily. I only answer for the promise of something new," the gruff voice responded.

"I do not make promises lightly," the normal-looking man cut in, not in the least bit perturbed by the remarks.

"He is right. Let's hear what he has to say," a deep, almost regal voice spoke up.

"Gentlemen," the man said, barely moving in his seat, not even to make himself more comfortable. "Every year, I put forth one noble individual, one who we test thoroughly, and you gamble on the outcome of whether or not this soul triumphs or fails. No matter what the outcome is, there is always a good time to be had, and this year is no different. Unlike last year's bishop, this year I give to you perhaps the noblest soul ever put forth as a subject. All of you know who he is, what he does, what he has accomplished. In fact, I would not be surprised if all of you have followed his endeavors for years.

"That is correct, gentlemen. This year, the subject of this game is none other than the Dark Knight himself: The Batman of Gotham City. A man whose name has reached all corners of the world, inspiring equivalent acts of heroism as well as villainy unlike anything seen in history. This game will seek to undo all of it, and bring about his downfall, one from which he will never recover from."

There was a moment of silence from the computer, the prospective men taking in the news. The jet bound man was not offended or disheartened. It wouldn't be the first time he was met with such silence after an announcement of this year's subject. This silence was a sign they were all thinking about his words, considering what could possibly be done to such a man as to bring forth such a promised fall.

"You have promised the Batman before," the gruff, Arabic voice accused. "You have done so for years only to replace him with someone else. How do we know that you will keep your word this time?"

"I'll have to agree with my friend on the other side here, partner. Always the last minute, ya switch him out and we get some schmuck that ain't half as interesting." That was another accented voice, but one native to the North American continent rather than Asia or North Africa.

"I understand your concerns. It's been very…" he paused as he thought of an appropriate word, "...frustrating that we haven't been able to follow through on such a grand promise before. All the other occasions, some large event, a crisis if you will, interfered before we could set our game into motion. If this is to be a spectacle unlike no other, I need the Batman's full, undivided attention. I need not remind you that mere months ago, the city of Gotham was under siege and the Batman nowhere to be found, seemingly defeated for good. That he has returned once again only proves his resolve and strength, yet another confirmation of his will. To break that will be an enormous undertaking, and one I am perfectly fit to do.

"Already, I have taken measures to ensure nothing outside of our operation will distract the Batman. Pressure on the criminal elements is already underway, certain facilities are being secured so that certain celebrities do not interfere. More important, the first gambit is already underway. The challenge is being issued as I speak. There will be no interference this time, whether it's the Joker, Harvey Two-Face, or Bane.

"Prepare your schedules, gentlemen. I know you to be some of the wealthiest men in the world, and you go through a lot of effort to keep it that way." One of the silhouettes snorted, but no other interruptions happened. "In two weeks' time, everything will come together and you will witness an experience like none other."

"What makes you think that you will be the one to end Batman? Where all others have failed, what do you have that will guarantee your success?" The fifth voice finally spoke, though also with a Arabic accent, it was much smoother than the first, gruffer voice.

"Because the Batman has let me into his head. I know him like no other," the nondescript man claimed, his lips curving upward cruelly. "I know his strengths. I know his weaknesses. I have taken great pains to leave my mark on his psyche, buttons if you will, that I will press one at a time until his self-destruction is inevitable. Truly, it will be a work of art, one that will never be forgotten.

"So, before I end this call. Who here wants to participate? How much do you wager? Who here is brave enough to gamble on the triumph of good over evil? Or will you play it safe, and bet on evil once more? Every soul that has captured our attention has never escaped our grasp. So what say you all? Care to make a bet?"

One at a time, in an almost orderly procession, the five voices began to talk amongst themselves, some excited while others were restrained. However, he had their interests, and it would only be a matter of time before they gave their respective consents, and their wagers. The outcome was inevitable, but on the off chance anyone of them tried to withdrawal, the risk of exposure was too low, and another would be contacted to replace him.

The odds were always on his side and this game would be no different.

Advantage: evil.

* * *

The gravel crushed beneath the tires, the car bouncing from the occasional big rock. Every so often, Bruce was struck with the thought of having the driveway paved so that the last quarter mile of his trip home wasn't so jolting. That thought would die the moment he set foot in the house and make the trip into the Cave.

Spotting the tree that Alfred's grave laid under, Bruce slowed the car down until the front passenger side door was even with the tree. Putting the gear shift into park, the young man sat in his seat, looking through the window at the grave marker.

It had been a long time since he had paid respects to his former butler. This in spite of the fact Alfred had been buried on the grounds. While the tree wasn't right next to the driveway, it was still viewable every time he passed by. Something within him told him that Alfred deserved better than the occasional glance every day. Reaching to the flower on the passenger seat, he picked it up and opened the car door.

Climbing out, he left the car running, the door wide open. There wasn't anyone for miles that would steal the car; the manor was just too far out to make grand theft auto worth it. This wouldn't take long either. Making the trek around the car and across the lawn-one that needed some maintenance, he noted-Bruce closed in on the grave.

It was a testament to his state of mind that he didn't notice anything suspect the entire journey. He felt like he was in a daze, a heavy stone being carried in his stomach. As much as he cared for his butler, his grave was a reminder of one of his greatest failures. Even though he had worn a mask and done everything he could to protect those he cared, evil men would still find a way to hurt him. The only shocking part was that Alfred's death wasn't a result of Batman's actions so much as the target on Bruce Wayne's back just because of who he was.

Irony-it was a son of a bitch sometimes.

Suddenly, Bruce came to a screeching halt. The ground beneath his feet shifted and crumbled. A look of horror swept over his face as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened with disbelief. The flower in his hand slipped between his loosening fingers and fell from his grasp.

The ground before the tombstone was dug up, leaving a wide open hole. Small piles of dirt had been left all along the edge of the grave. Numbness overflowed through Bruce's body as he stared into the dark abyss, the flower he once held falling into the hole.

What...what was this? How had this happened? Alfred's coffin, it was gone. Someone had taken it. _Who?_ Who had taken it?

And how had he missed this? It wasn't like you couldn't see the grave at all on the walk here. It was as if he hadn't wanted to look straight at the grave until the last moment. And still, with his analytical mind, he should have caught this.

Slowly, his hands clenched tightly into fists. Someone had made a huge mistake. While he didn't know why anyone would go out of their way to dig up Alfred, he would find them and show them exactly why it was a bad idea. They would pay dearly for this travesty.

Jerking his head up, he began looking in every which direction, searching for any clues left behind. To dig up a grave, it would take time and tools. Considering the small piles of dirt and the distinct lack of a much larger pile that would properly fill up the hole before him, that meant a machine had been involved. Looking at the ground, Bruce began to back away when he found something.

There were footprints pressed into the ground. Having taken the time to walk back in his own footsteps, he knew these footprints weren't his. Multiple people had been out here. And over there-tire tracks.

Bruce frowned. Those tracks, while they led to the driveway, they also went off towards the woods further into the property. Why was that? Moving towards the tire tracks, he began to follow them as he walked towards the woods. There were answers he needed and by God he would get them.

And his wrath would be great.

* * *

Author's Note: Now who could have done that? If you're curious, the face Bruce has on is the same look of horror he had when he found out his parents' graves had been robbed during the Tower of Babel storyline.


	2. Growing Doubts

Growing Doubts

Renee Montoya felt herself rusty. After months of being on leave, recovering from the head trauma she had sustained, she was finally back at the department, ready to return to active duty. It had been horrible, forced to a bed when the city had needed her in its darkest time. Unfortunately, her injuries had grounded her, and only a couple weeks ago had the detective been granted a full bill of health.

Naturally, as she found herself walking down familiar hallways and into the bullpen, nostalgia washed over her and she couldn't help the smile forming on her face. The normal foot traffic was there as fellow officers were in and out, sometimes escorting someone in handcuffs and others carrying reams of paperwork. Normal stuff, things that Montoya had thought she would not miss.

"Well look who it is! Rook! What took ya so damn long?"

And that...was another one of them. Though tempted to say she hadn't missed Harvey Bullock, the Hispanic cop found that she could not deny missing...Bullock. Really, there was no other way to describe him.

Larger than life and his dress shirt already had some stains in them. The larger man was making his way over to her, taking up all the room around him while he did so. "Nice to see you too, Harvey," she greeted, coming to a stop as soon as he got too close.

"I've been telling them all, you ain't done yet and here you are, proving me right. That's a hundred bucks I won. You sure showed them," Bullock exclaimed as he lowered his arms to the side. "So what took ya? It's just been me here."

Montoya was not about to ask about that, the whole hundred bucks bit. It wouldn't be a surprise that some of the other officers had a pool going. Also, she didn't want to know anymore. Best to get on something else and go from there.

"Doctors. Apparently I was in critical condition for a while. They've only just now thought I was good enough to return to active duty. It was a pain finding out about everything that happened." Now that she was saying it out loud, it all felt so real.

While she was recovering in Gotham Mercy, Gotham had been plunged into yet another crime wave, this one orchestrated by the newcomer, Bane. The streets had run red with blood and fire, and the city had been brought to its knees. All of that happened before the bridges were blown. Imagine waking up to that, and that was literal.

So much had happened, and Montoya was unsure about every little detail. Perhaps what was most important was that the Batman had returned and set things right once more. After that, it was Gotham's turn to rebuild and remake normalcy.

"Figures. Can't those guys figure out we can take a hit or three?" Bullock grumbled.

While lost in her thoughts, the Hispanic detective had lost her smile, but now it was returning as a particular detail popped up in her head. "I heard you too were sidelined, Bullock."

Now the lieutenant was grimacing. "He got a cheap shot on me," he grumbled as arms crossed over one another, the dark-haired man looking away. "He's lucky he got taken down before the all clear came in, otherwise, I'd show that wrestling reject how we do things in my neighborhood."

Now that was starting to sound like the Bullock she knew. Montoya had been a bit off guard with her old partner approaching her like he had, because this was a man who let you come to him, not the other way around. God help you if you found yourself being approached by him.

"I'm sure you managed to get a hit or two in first. Now, Harv, I need to get to my desk." Nothing ever said that her day had started until after she checked her inbox for her latest cases. With a city as big as Gotham, it wasn't uncommon to get five new murders on your desk and having to investigate them on top of the ones you were already working. It wasn't like the movies where you could work on them one at a time.

"Hey, what's the rush? You just got here," Bullock said as he sided up to her, an arm slipping around her upper back. "Why not take a spin in the breakroom. They're finally starting to splurge on the good stuff in there."

The coffee was improving? They could budget for that now? Sheesh, what else had she missed? No, no, get back to the daily ritual. She couldn't let herself get sucked into Bullock's tendencies to slack off, even though he had enough experience that he could time his slack offs to a t.

"Maybe later. I really need to get to my desk," the detective attempted to excuse herself, holding up a hand in front of her. A thought occurred to her, and Montoya found herself asking, "Is there any reason you're stalling me?"

"Do I really need a reason?" Bullock responded, giving an uneasy smile.

"Maybe he knows something you don't."

Looking over her shoulder, Bullock's arm pulling away, Montoya spotted another face, one that was most welcome to see. "Lieutenant Gordon."

"I see Harvey beat me to you," the commissioner's wife and right hand woman greeted back, a small smile on her face. "I'm guessing since you're still so eager, you haven't been told."

"Told what? Ma'am." That "ma'am" was tacked on at the end, a belated sign of respect but it did nothing to curb the Hispanic woman's curiosity.

"You're on desk duty right now, but only for the next couple of weeks. You've been off duty for some time," Gordon told her, her smile suddenly sympathetic. "The department wants to make sure that there's nothing else that hasn't been detected. Plus, we're still working on the backlog from Bane's invasion."

Oh. And here she thought that she would be getting back to some cases that had to be left unworked. Damn, should have remembered that even in a crisis, the commissioner wouldn't allow any cases to slip through the cracks, though many still did. Her caseload would have been assigned to others to complete while she recuperated.

"It's good to have you back, detective," the lieutenant continued. "I recommend checking out the breakroom before sitting down. The coffee's been upgraded."

"So I have heard. Thank you, lieutenant," Montoya responded, an effort of will used so not to sound robotic.

"Sorry about that, Rook," Bullock said, Lieutenant Gordon already taking her leave. "Sucks to be grounded, take it from me. So about that coffee?"

"I think I might need a pick-me-up, thanks for offering," Montoya stated as she fell in line with Bullock, the pair making their way through the bullpen.

* * *

Dick let out a yawn, his late night catching up with him. He was back at his dead end job, exhausted, but knew that there was truly no rest for the righteous. Bills needed to be paid, a crappy apartment secured, and only after that could some fun be had.

These last few months, fun had been the furthest thing from the young man's mind. Even though it was all firmly behind them, Dick could never truly pull his mind away from it. It seemed like with every new crisis, the Batclan underwent some kind of change, usually to the negative. He wasn't going to go into the details, because that would take too long to do.

Harper and Stephanie were coming along, he had to give them that much credit. The girls were improving, finding their styles, and who knows, maybe someday he could trust them fully. Until then, he kept his attention divided between the three of them, watching his own back as well as theirs.

That still didn't change the fact that Harper, or Bluebird, was their expert on electricity and circuitry. It made sneaking around places with unanticipated security measures much easier, especially when she could loop feeds and make them invisible to cameras. Her self-defense still needed an upgrade; while useful, Harper tended to become too reliant on her taser.

As for Stephanie, she would officially be classified as the second best fighter by default, not counting Tim anymore since he was doing his own thing. He hadn't expected the girl who had the appearance of your standard valley girl being able to develop her own fighting style as she had, but she could be nimble when needed. Still needed to work on her slip ups; overconfidence was something she fell into too often. However, he felt that she was missing something, something that could really make her blossom as a Batclan member. If only she could find it.

Until then, he would have to make up for it and pick up the slack. It was something he was more than use too, once he took off the rose-colored lens and admitted that even Barbara and Tim had had their flaws too.

That was his responsibility, one that he himself had been slacking on. Damn it, now he was starting to think…

Scanning the convenience store that he found himself employed in and making sure there was no one he was waiting on or needed to wait on, Dick lowered his head and let out a sigh.

The thing about crises, they were very distracting. They took up all of your attention and made it that much easier to not think. There was something to be said in not thinking about failure, such as Barbara and her back and Tim's whole thing. However, the worst failure of the Batclan, his worst failure, could be summed up in one word.

Jason.

Goddamn fucking Jason.

Sure, those words made him sound angry, but after all this time, it was mostly guilt. If there was any anger, it was directed at himself because damn it, why had he been that stupid? He knew who Jason was, what the kid was capable of. Why had he made that stupid, stupid decision to let him "cool off?"

No matter how many times he went over it in his head, how many excuses he came up with, other unpredictable..._things_, it always came down to that one goddamn decision. Screw the use of guns, the grounding, the arguments, Jason had needed for him to be there for him. He had needed a mentor, a real one. Someone who could channel that anger within the kid and put it to good use.

But Dick hadn't risen to the occasion. He had seen the younger male as a nuisance, a distraction. That wasn't what Jason had needed, someone hostile to his presence whether it was in the open or passive aggressive. He hadn't treated Harper or Stephanie that way...okay, there had been some initial resentment, but most had been directed at Huntress who had plopped them in his lap in the first place.

But he had gotten past that resentment and put his energies into training the girls. Why hadn't he done the same for Jason? So much he could have done but hadn't. Didn't. Would never be able to do.

And it wasn't like they could go tell the cops or something. Hey, this kid was killed by the Joker! Send him to the chair, or whatever it was they still did in New Jersey. No, because then there would be questions. How did he know the Joker killed Jason? What was he doing when it happened?

There was also the kicker that he had not just contaminated but destroyed the crime scene itself when he had removed Jason's body. A big no-no, but the young man had done it, had gotten the kid's blood all over him, and...and…

Dick combed his fingers through his hair. He couldn't stop beating himself up over this. Let's not count in the looks he got from Leslie Thompkins whenever the two of them happened to show up at the grave at the same time. It wasn't that it was an accusing look-it wasn't. Just...she knew, she didn't approve, and wasn't going to force him to do anything.

Because, at the end of the day, he was the only one who could make the choice.

Right now, Dick had no idea what choice he wanted to make.

Hell, he didn't know what the choice was in the first place. Sure, Dr. Thompkins might be able to put it into perspective...goddamn it, why'd he have to let Jason fucking leave like that?!

It always came back to that one moment in time. Without fail, he would picture himself back then, making a different choice, and chasing after the angry kid. Whatever he would do after that, how he would talk or take Jason down, he didn't know, didn't care if the guy hated his guts more than ever, at least he would still be alive.

Only the _whishing _of the automatic doors was enough to break through this...funk Dick was going through. There was another word for it, he was sure, but right now he wasn't in the mood to think of what it was. For the time being, he needed to be pleasant until whoever walked in was done with their business.

At least it would give him time not to think about Jason.

* * *

Lucius should have expected it. After everything that had been going on in Gotham over the last couple of years, he knew when one shoe fell, the other was going to fall sooner or later.

In this instance, it came as a phone call. Hearing the ringing from his cell phone, he snatched it up, pausing only briefly to eye the caller I.D.

Wayne Manor.

_Sigh._ What was it _this_ time?

Answering, he held the receiver to his ear. "Lucius," he greeted.

"_Hey, Lucius, it's Bruce,"_ the billionaire returned. Though his tone was light-hearted, the older man couldn't help but detect some strain. _"I know you told me we had a board meeting today, but something came up."_

Lucius couldn't help clenching his jaw at that. For once, it seemed like Bruce was starting to get his act together. He was regularly attending meeting now, though he missed one every once in awhile. However, attending was just about all he did. He didn't offer any direction, feedback, or anything. Instead he just sat there like a lump on a log, listened, laughed when appropriate, then jetted off to something he considered to be more interesting.

"Bruce, this better be life or death," he warned the younger man. "Today is very important for Wayne Enterprises; we talked about this. Just because you're coming in more consistently doesn't mean-

"_Hmm? What was that?" _Bruce sounded as if he were talking to someone else on his side of the phone. _"Oh, sorry, Lucius. Listen, I have to go. I'll make it up to you."_

And with that, the line went dead. Again, Lucius let out an aggrieved sigh. This was not going to end well.

Pocketing his phone, he grabbed a couple of folders and a large legal pad, holding them underneath one arm as he stood up and walked out of his office. It was a short trip to the boardroom, one that he wished could have lasted a little longer. Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of the Wayne Board of Directors, each seat filled with expectant board members save for two.

One of those seats was his. The other was their absentee owner.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Lucius greeted them as he took his place at the head of the table, placing his things on top of the table. "Let's start today's meeting with-"

A hand shot up, causing Lucius to stop talking. The hand belonged to Lincoln March, a mainstay on the board since he joined it following Bruce's sabbatical after Alfred's death. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Lucius, but the board isn't all here."

Lucius' eyes glanced to Bruce's empty seat. "I apologize for Mr. Wayne's absence. He won't be making it this morning, but we'll carry on as usual."

There were murmurs, ones that weren't even trying to be subtle. It was something Lucius had noticed going on for some time now. At first it had been a couple of the board members grumbling, which was to be expected. However, it had steadily grown each time Bruce reneged on his responsibilities. Now, a majority of the room was muttering to each other.

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Lincoln drawled as he leaned forward in his seat, placing his hands on top of the table and entwining his fingers. "Does 'Mr. Wayne' find this meeting a hindrance to his nightlife again?"

"Nothing of the sort," Lucius immediately responded. "I'm sure he has a good reason. Now, if we could get on with last quarter's numbers-"

Again, Lincoln raised his hand, a gesture Lucius was starting to find annoying. "I'm sorry, Lucius, but I must interject. I believe we need to address the elephant in the room before we can continue on with the board's main business."

The older man raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be, Mr. March?"

Lincoln opened his arms out, holding his hands out to the rest of the board. "Bruce Wayne's continued absences. As the man running this company, he has certain shown a great disregard for it. There are hard-working people coming in day in and day out, working their hearts out for a guy that can't be bothered to wake up at a decent hour in the morning. How is it fair to them? Or us? Wayne has put himself at a crucial juncture that influences _everything_ this company does. How can anyone expect to conduct business when they have no idea if the man they need permission from is even going to show? How many meetings have we had to end early, or cancel because he didn't show up?"

Lauren Granger spoke up, "I agree with Mr. March. Mr. Wayne's frequent absences are becoming too routine for my liking."

There were a few more people adding their agreement, saying things like, "Exactly," or "Yes."

"I'll admit that Mr. Wayne could be putting more effort into his duties," Lucius admitted. "But Wayne Enterprises has been able to operate without issue in spite of this."

"Is that so?" Lincoln inquired.

"Need I remind you when Bruce took time off for the death of Alfred Pennyworth. He was gone for some time and Wayne Enterprises still functioned like a well-oiled machine," the older man pointed out. "And that was after the Joker kidnapped this very board."

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Lauren Granger lowering her head, while a couple of others seemed to shrink in on themselves. That had been a dark time for this company, something that had affected these very people for a long time. Just the mentioning of it took them to dark places.

"And if anyone of you has talked to Bruce before and after his leave, you would be able to tell that he hasn't been the same. Remember, he was very involved with the company before then. He's still working through his grief."

"For seven years?" Lincoln immediately interjected. "He wasn't even related to his butler. How long is appropriate for someone to mourn another? There are people that lose mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and they're expected to come back to work in months, never years."

Lucius narrowed his eyes at March. However, before he could respond, he received help from a surprising place. "You watch your mouth, March," Dithers snarled. "You didn't join this board until after Bruce came back, so you have no idea _what_ you're talking about. I knew Alfred Pennyworth and I knew the relationship he had with Bruce. You're being out of line."

It seemed Lincoln realized he had overstepped a boundary as he raised a hand up to placate the man Bruce joking referred to as the Cryptkeeper. "My apologies. However, my point still stands that we expect our own employees to return to work after a much shorter time. What say you to that?"

That's when Brian Jennings entered the conversation, attempting to return the subject to the previous one. "So far, I do believe Lucius is right in that Wayne Enterprises has been able to operate without Bruce Wayne's constant presence. We've been fortunate that we've been able to work without issue. However, that doesn't mean it will always stay that way. Our competitors already believe Wayne Enterprises is successful regardless of whether Bruce is here or not. They have very little respect for him and there may come a time where if there's even a drop off from our standards, Wayne Enterprises will suffer because of its owner's reputation."

"Exactly," Lincoln agreed. "Before this goes any further, I do believe that we need to determine whether Wayne Enterprises even needs Bruce Wayne. What say you?"

That's when the board became more rambunctious. Slowly, Lucius eased himself into his seat, unable to help himself as he cradled the side of his face with one hand.

He had known something like this would happen. It was miraculous that it took this long for it to happen, but still, it felt like there was a stone sitting in his stomach. Jesus, he hated it when he was right.

* * *

Cutting off the phone line with a press of the button, Bruce ended the call to Lucius Fox. The man would handle the Wayne Enterprises meeting without him.

The sun was still up, but that wasn't going to stop Bruce. Already he had on his Batman armor, his cowl lying on the computer console. At a moment's notice, he was ready to snatch it up and dawn it.

He didn't sit in his chair, instead opting for standing right in front of the super computer. It was already performing a series of tasks he had imputed moments before he put on his armor. He had found several clues when investigating Alfred's open grave and those analyses would take some time.

The one he was most eager to see concerned a backhoe. The tracks he had found by the grave had led right into the woods, where the construction vehicle had been abandoned. Already, he knew someone wanted his attention; there was no other reason for abandoning it on his own property. Taking down the registration tags and searching the backhoe for any other clues, he had taken what he found to the Cave and put his computer to work.

There was a quiet voice in his head, whispering the very angry thoughts that ran on repeat. He wanted Alfred found; he wanted to make the people behind this pay for this desecration; he wanted vengeance.

And he would have it.

There were multiple windows open on the monitor, all of which were performing his commands. He didn't sift through them as the computer would bring a completed one in an instant.

And one did. This was the one he wanted too, the registration tags on the backhoe. It had come from a rental company, a Quality Tool & Die. He knew of a location in Gotham, one that was known for repairing tools, equipment, and the like. It also served as a rental service. He knew the first place he would be investigating once he had everything he needed.

Reading the results, Bruce narrowed his eyes. According to the record that his computer had obtained, the backhoe had been rented out by a Thomas Payne. Opening a new window, he did a search on this Payne. Unlike the rest of his commands, this one didn't take all that long. Immediately, a window opened up with the name THOMAS PAYNE at the top.

A scowl appeared on the dark-haired man's face. All of the demographics were either blank, or had N/A present. This was an alias and a poorly made one at that. Whomever made this had been sloppy.

Just like he had been. This entire situation wouldn't be happening if it weren't for him and this double life he led. Had he not been fighting crime as Batman, then the criminal element that rose in his wake, like Victor Fries, Oswald Cobblepot, or even the Joker wouldn't have arrived. Fries only did what he had because he had seen him taking on the Mob. Cobblepot got a foothold on the criminal underworld because the Mob had been weakened by his and Fries' efforts, leaving a power vacuum that he exploited. And then there was the Joker…

_Raising a hand up, the Joker pointed a massive handgun right at Alfred, aiming it at the butler's head. Alfred stared calmly as the madman waited to pull the trigger._

Bruce's face twisted with sorrow as he remembered the last time he had seen his old friend and confidant alive. That hadn't been the last time someone had suffered because of him either. Every ill, every evil that had risen to plunge Gotham into chaos stemmed from the moment he had put on the cowl, the exact opposite of what he intended. People had died, others were maimed, and even more had their lives changed.

Jim Gordon's daughter was paralyzed. Tim Drake had to leave the city when Harvey  
Dent exposed his identity. As if those failures weren't enough, he had failed to shutdown the Batclan, so they only replaced their original members with not one, not two, but three kids. One of them was dead, or so he understood.

And then there was the future…

Bruce immediately squeezed his eyes tight, fighting against the memory that was threatening to overwhelm him. He had to, needed to, suppress this memory, the one burned into his mind. Already he could hear the sickening snap of vertebra from inhuman strength.

It took a moment, but he was finally successful. Letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding, he took a moment to pant, collecting himself and steadying his breathing.

However, even though he had suppressed that memory, that moment had gone on to strain the very relationship he had meant to protect. The girl he had taken off the streets was now pulling away from him, leaving him alone like everyone else that had come before her. His parents, Alfred, the multitude of women he had used for his playboy persona, Zana...was that his fate? To drive everyone away, or lead them to their untimely death?

Why hadn't he ever thought of this? The common denominator in every tragedy in his life was him, Bruce Wayne. _Ipso facto,_ it wasn't bad things that befell him, but ones that he caused. He was the reason.

His goal in life, his mission, was to prevent these tragedies. Wasn't it responsible of him to put a stop to it all? If he was the cause, then he needed to end it. He needed to stop being Batman. Without Batman, there wouldn't be all of these insane criminals attacking Gotham; there wouldn't be the blood of innocents coating the streets from his mistakes. And Alfred would still be…

Bruce paused. No, no that wasn't right. He hadn't been the one to pull the trigger and killed Alfred. Regardless of the cause, even if it was him, the fault for the actual act fell on the one who committed the crime. Because there was a choice and there always would be. As the Joker admitted after that, he did what he did because why the hell not? And Oswald Cobblepot made the decision to become a Mob Boss with the backing of Hush funding him. And on top of that, the Court of Owls had existed prior to all of them.

Bruce clenched a fist tightly. Whatever doubt he had about his dual identity, he could sort through that later. For now, he needed to find Alfred and return him to where he belonged. And then there would be hell to pay on the ones responsible.

* * *

Normally, this kind of thing happened in the dead of night, perhaps at a train station, with the full moon shining down ominously, the local insect life quiet as the dead, and a feeling that something not right had arrived.

It was never like that, case in point. This was broad daylight, late afternoon maybe, no one gave a damn as the noises of the city remained in full force, and it was an Uber that pulled up to a street corner to let out its passenger. This was how it always began, with everything absolutely mundane.

This was in spite of the fact that a man with reddish hair and a green trench coat emerged from the car, turning to look back say, "What's the damage?"

Yes, he pulled out a wallet and tendered some currency, just like your Average Joe.

As his ride pulled away, the man in the trench coat did a cursory lookover of his surroundings, not looking the least bit intimidated. Weary, perhaps, but not afraid in any regards. The feelings he got from this place were just like they were the last time he had visited Gotham. Normal, oppressive city feel that came along with your standard taint of entropy and certain promises of danger.

So yes, nothing had changed since his last visit.

"Alright, let's see if the trail is still fresh here," he muttered to himself as he began strolling down the sidewalk, passing by the street sign that labeled the road Park Row. His hands were in his pockets, completely throwing away the images of a man who should definitely be smoking, but wasn't. He had been a smoker once, but found at one point that it wasn't his style. Besides, smoke with him was never a good thing.

As he passed by an alley, there was movement within, a pair of eyes spotting him greedily. The red-haired man detected the movement, sensed that there was malevolent towards him, and practically reflexively, he removed a hand from his pocket.

With fingers directed towards the source of impending danger, they began to trace lines in the air, lines that glowed green until they formed a floating sigil. The greedy eyes could not take their gaze away from the rune, staring deeply until they became blank. Confusion followed as the individual who owned those eyes could not remember what he had been doing or was about to do.

No one else saw this, and if they had, the same effects would have been experienced. A sudden loss of memory, followed by confusion, then a return to normal activities as it was decided that what was forgotten couldn't have been that important. At least there was a positive to this; muggings were a thing of the past.

Placing his hand back into his pocket, the man known as Jim Corrigan continued his stroll towards an unknown destination, one that would set him loose on his latest case.

May God himself help Gotham.


	3. Great Undertakings

Great Undertakings

The chalk outline was strange to her. It clearly identified a person, or at least someone with arms and legs, a body, and a head. It marked the last known position of the body and how it was found.

Batgirl crouched right next to it, staring at it as if it would give her all the answers she needed. It was not. And that part annoyed her.

Standing up, she walked backwards, away from the outline until she stood by a dumpster. She then moved right next to the dumpster until she was right up against the wall, walking next to it until she was at the other end of the alley. She was circling the crime scene, making sure she was not ruining it. She knew there was another word for it, but hadn't quite learned it yet.

Angling inward, she came to a stop next to a small yellow placard. It had the number 5 painted on it. It was here the police believed the shooter was, or so she assumed. The blood on the ground by the body seemed to suggest a shooter.

Crouching down again, Batgirl studied the ground. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she was going to look for it. Unfortunately, she wasn't finding anything that told her what she wanted to know.

As much as she had made a big deal about striking out on her own in Gotham, she was starting to figure out that punching and kicking bad guys wasn't enough. Sure, she could spot a mugging-in-progress a mile away, but she was starting to find more and more crimes after the fact.

Those were the ones that angered her. She had to find out who did them so that she could bring them to justice. It was how she was raised. Therein lied her problem.

She was trying to be a detective when she had never had to be one.

In the beginning, she had Batman to do this part, the investigating. He made it seem so effortless too. Where fighting came naturally to her, investigating came to him. He could look at a crime scene, search it, find the piece that was missed, and solve the case. Then he would give her the job of putting down the criminal.

Now, here she was, trying to solve it herself and she was getting nowhere. The smart thing to do would be to go to Batman, show him what she had, and have him help her. Heck, maybe he could teach her a thing or two.

Except, she wanted to be on her own. How would it make her look after making that demand and then come running back to him? Sure, they shared the same house and he would no doubt allow her to use all of the equipment in the Batcave, but she didn't want to do that. She wanted to be her own person, capable of handling anything and everything.

And maybe Batgirl could become Batwoman.

Batgirl snorted. As if she would ever take _that_ name.

There had to be another way to do this. She would find it; she would make her own. It was just going to take longer than she liked.

Standing back up, Batgirl looked around the alleyway. She didn't see anything new, especially after the half-hour she had been here. Since the cops had been here, perhaps she could get that Oracle person to get her the information on the case. She could study that and go from there.

There was a presence behind her. Batgirl didn't so much as flinch. She wouldn't give away that she knew someone was behind. No doubt they would try to fight her and she would put them down hard.

"What are you doing here?"

That voice! Batgirl whipped her head around. Standing at the entrance to the alleyway was Huntress, a hand on her hip, and a look on her face that said she was waiting for an answer. It was the teacher look, or so the younger girl called it.

"Hi," she said to the dark-haired woman.

"Hi," she returned, not the least bit put off. "Are you going to answer me, or do I have to play twenty questions?"

Batgirl turned so that her side was to the other vigilante. She then held a hand out to the crime scene. "I'm trying to solve the crime," she said simply.

Huntress craned her head to a side so that she could see the crime scene, then returned her attention to the younger girl. "So I can see. Why?"

"So that I can bring the criminal to justice." Okay, wasn't that obvious? Huntress had worked with her before and had been doing this for a long time. She should already know this.

"Perhaps I should rephrase: why are _you_ doing it? Don't you have someone else that can do it?"

Immediately, Batgirl looked away. She should have expected that response. "I don't need him to solve this."

"Oh ho! Has the little Bat decided to get away from Daddy Bat's shadow?" There was amusement in Huntress' voice, which annoyed the girl. "Then allow me to help you get your independence."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

That was when Huntress approached her, coming to stand next to her. "Well, first thing we have to do is teach you. I'm pretty sure you know this already, but you aren't a detective. You don't solve crimes. You put an end to them, but you don't solve them. What we need to do is teach you how to solve them."

Petulantly, Batgirl looked to the purple-dressed woman. "And you're going to teach me?"

"Yep, but not just me. See, I get the feeling you want to learn this from anyone other than Batman. Otherwise you would be at his side now with him teaching you everything he knows. You want to be your own girl and I respect that. So, I'm going to take you to see some people that know a thing or two about investigating. We can all teach you what you want to know."

That caused the girl to perk up. "You will?"

"Of course. We girls have to stick together, ya know."

Well, this was good. Batgirl could already feel excited about the prospect. She wouldn't have to go crawling back home and that was a good thing. "Where are we going?"

Huntress hung an arm across her shoulders. "Let me tell you about a place called the Birdcage."

* * *

It was a very large room, and very nice too. Plush carpet on the floor for your oh so tired feet, decorative light fixtures that had a dimming feature so that you could adjust the ambiance of the place to something most pleasing to the eye, wall to wall bookcases stuff with...books, and of course the stands that held all sorts of stuffed animals, trophies from all sorts of African safaris and the like.

It all screamed "money, Money, MONEY!"

But wait, there was more. Situated on the far side of the room, opposite two very big and very wide double doors sat a very spiffy desk, huge in size with a very nice computer and a very large, cushioned swivel chair that was currently turned around. Behind the desk was a very large, paned window with a very impressive view of the city, a pair of curtains held back by cloth-based ropes.

Into this very luxurious room walked in a tall, dark-haired man. Dressed in a pair of suspenders, the straps pressing down on a neatly-pressed dress shirt, and a necktie loosened around the collar, the man who obviously owned this place strolled over the carpet, his hands holding several sheets of paper. His dark eyes moved from left to right, reading whatever information there was to be had. He seemed to have little awareness of his surroundings, which implied his comfort in it. Not once did he run into any of his trophies.

Muffled by the carpeted floor, the shiny, black dress shoes the man wore came to a stop, bringing the man to a halt even though he didn't look up once. It was obvious that on an instinctual level, he knew where everything in this room was and could avoid running into any of it. This time, he stood before the large desk, shifting through the documents he was reading.

And there was his cue.

"Burning the midnight oil?"

The swivel chair that had been turned away had a back to it that could block anyone from sight. This had been taken full advantage of as a certain teen vigilante spun into sight. Somewhat lanky, the outfit he wore made up for some bulk, blacks and reds patterned together. A yellow belt-like harness wrapped over both shoulders and under the arms. Like the man, the teen had black hair, but unlike him, the younger male had a domino mask over his eyes, white lens blocking them.

The man had started, his head snapping up from his reading to gawk at the costumed teen. "The hell are you and what are you doing in my house!" he bellowed, a hand tightening on the papers and crinkling them.

Red Robin found himself smirking. Heh, he had the element of surprise and already this guy was showing he couldn't hide his emotions for shit. This was going to make the next few minutes so worth it.

"You really got a nice place here," he said instead, making a show of looking around, even as he sat back in the large swivel chair, nonchalantly placing his booted feet on the desk. "Looks really expensive if you don't mind me saying."

The man scowled. "Do you know who I am?"

Ah, great, he was one of _those_ types. Self-important, thought he was the she-bang, all that fun stuff. Next thing you knew, the guy was going to go off on all the horrible things he could have done to the vigilante. While that might sound interesting, Red Robin had better stuff to do than that.

"Nicholas Galtry, age 53, doing quite well for a guy who...doesn't have any kind of major position in a multinational corporation or government agency. You like hunting, especially rare game, definitely the finer things in life like what you have in your liquor cabinet, and you hobnob with all the powerful people you can whether they're rich, politically connected, or your average celebrity. You have your standard portfolio of investments but they don't churn out the kind of cash you need to keep this all up."

Yes, all of that was said with a smile on his face.

"You're damn-wait. Where did you find that out?" Galtry's angry shout was abruptly cut off as the teen's words finally reached him.

"Where else? The internet." Red Robin shrugged his shoulders, giving a "duh" tone to his voice. "You really like to post your trophy kills on Facebook. I'm surprised the death threats haven't run you off."

"You think you're cute, don't you?" the older man growled as he took a step closer to his desk, trying to look over the intruding vigilante. "You're made a big mistake breaking in here. What are you here for? To rob me?"

"Funny you should say that. The only thief I see around here is you."

"How dare you." Another growl from Galtry, yawn. Christ, this guy was so predictable.

"Well, what else do you call it when you con a kid's trust fund from him?" Red Robin asked innocently. Had he not been wearing the mask, his eyes would have been wide and filled with worry.

However, Galtry paused. Then almost laughably, he denied the accusation. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really? So you didn't get custody of a kid who lost his parents in an accident, didn't get all legal rights to gain entry into the trust fund, and haven't reported that the kid in question is no longer in your custody because, yeah, I checked this whole place out, and every other property you own and found no kid. He'd be what, fifteen by now? Getting close to sixteen? Hey, maybe you know."

"The only brat around here is you, and I'm calling the police," Galtry snapped back. It didn't escape the young vigilante's gaze that there were beads of sweat forming on the older man's forehead. This guy was a horrible poker player.

Shrugging his shoulders, Red Robin threw out, "Go ahead. I'm curious what's going to happen when the cops find out you're involved in human trafficking. That ought to go over real well."

There was more bluster from Galtry, and needless to say more denials. "Where are you coming with this shit? I am a respectable member of society and I don't traffic humans or anything of the sort. You sound like some paranoid freak from Arkham; maybe that's where you need to go."

Okay, Arkham was a bit of a sore spot since Red Robin didn't want to be around a certain lawyer who happened to be held there. Well, while Galtry didn't know this, he had stepped on a landmine and the vigilante was done playing with him.

"Funny. Because your computer says differently. You made a rookie mistake, Galtry. I got everything on this flashdrive." He held up said flashdrive for the older man to see. "Browser history, time stamps, transactions, everything. This finds its way into a good cop's hands, you go down hard, and all those 'friends' of yours will be running for the hills, doing everything to have nothing to do with you.

"But before you try and get your hands on this, I have more. See, I found the kid, you know, the one you sold on the dark web. Yeah, I have the one person who was there for your darkest secret, the one thing you'll do anything to make disappear. People tend to be more open to something horrible when there's a witness."

Throughout his little monologue, Red Robin kept his eyes trained on Galtry, taking in how the man's dark eyes had widened. Only after the teen was finished did they narrow; perhaps the guy was going to try and weasel his way out of this? Whatever it was going to be, it was going to have to be good.

"Nice bluff, but you're going to have to do better than that. I've had about enough of this." Oh, so more denial. At the very least, Galtry sounded genuine. Too bad the masked teen had all the dirt on him; maybe he needed to rethink that whole bad poker bit.

"Do better?" he repeated. "Alright. I can do that. Say, what if I, I don't know, brought the kid with me? In fact, I think he might want to have a word with you."

Galtry gave him another disbelieving look, but before he could say anything, the man was suddenly jerked around and faced with the snarling roar of a green-colored bear. Oh, that was good, great timing Beast Boy. A shame Red Robin couldn't see Galtry's face because it would have been worth it.

The bear rumbled before saying, "Remember me, asshole?"

Galtry was trembling, and Red Robin suppose he would have been too had he been in the same position, pinned by a large bear against this ridiculously large desk. Fortunately, the bear didn't stick around as it shrunk, morphing into a much shorter, lanky, green tear who was now glaring at his terrorized victim. "How 'bout now? Remember me," Beast Boy snarled.

_There is definite recognition_. That there was a voice, one that echoed in the masked teen's head. Sometimes it paid to have someone who could not only read emotions-literally-but also project herself in your head. No need to distract yourself with human voices and all.

"Remember Garfield Logan?" Red Robin spoke up. "I think anyone would; kinda hard to forget about a kid with _green_ skin. How do you lose someone like that?"

Galtry's response was as predictable as it was lame. "This isn't possible! You can be-! You're suppose-!" Yeah and the whole interrupting bit was getting annoying.

Beast Boy yanked Galtry closer to him, his hands balling up the fabric of the taller man's dress shirt. "You fucking sold me, made me a goddamn slave to a freaky cult leader. Say it again, I dare you, say you don't know what _I'm _talking about."

"I-I-I-"

"You know what, let's skip this demanding answers part and get to the kick his ass part," Red Robin suggested. "He's not going to admit anything and right now, the fact he's not denying anything means we have him. So yeah, get some frustration out. He's not going to be going anywhere."

No sooner had he finished speaking, the masked teen glanced around and spotted the others. Blocking the doors were the duo that was Cyborg and Starfire, the metal teen standing tall with his arms crossed with the blankest look he had ever seen and the alien Tamaranian still as a statue. It was safe to say that exit was blocked.

Behind Red Robin, and the window, floated a cloak, one that was worn by the emphatic girl who called herself Raven. She blended in slightly with the night, thanks to all the dark colors she wore. The glass obscured any facial expression she might be wearing, but a good guess was that it was blank as Cyborg's.

Over by a conspicuously empty pedestal that had once held an allegedly stuffed bear, Wonder Girl reclined on the raised surface, no longer hiding like she had been while the resident vigilante confronted their human trafficker. She too had her arms crossed, but unlike the others, she had a smile on her lips as she watched the scene play out. Someone was enjoying this even if others weren't.

"You can't do this!" Galtry protested, trying to push the angry, green teen away. "He's an animal! Have you seen those teeth?" Oh hey, what do you know, the teen vigilante had noticed how Beast Boy's teeth, especially the canines, were a little longer than your average Joe's. "He'll kill me!"

"Nah, he's just gonna rough you up a bit. We won't let him kill you," Red Robin said nonchalantly, settling back in the chair so that he was more comfortable. "You sold a kid into slavery; you deserve a lot worse."

One of his hands releasing Galtry, Beast Boy pulled his arm back and made a fist. "And I'm about to go D'jango on your ass," he hissed.

Red Robin didn't know what hurt worse, the following punch or the dated reference.

* * *

The nondescript man entered an expansive room, hired hands filling it with activity and tasks that needed to be completed. Whether male or female, each wore an outfit that was individually different and with little uniformity. The man cared not for any of that so long as there was competence. For the time being, these Fiends would be muscle until further called on.

His real destination was a large table that was situated in the dead center of the room. It was at this table that a collection of bizarre looking individuals waited. Each of them had been handpicked, their qualifications were seemingly arbitrary, but in reality would serve a necessary purpose in the upcoming events.

"Take your places," he commanded as he reached the ensemble. "There is much to discuss and little time to get everything in order."

The man didn't take a seat, though he did walk around the table, his deadened eyes passing over each and every person. They all ranged in sizes, sex, and garments. Some had armor, others wore the flimsiest material imaginable. The only thing they really had in common was that they found inspiration in similar places. Why they chose to do what they did differed, but that each selected a gimmick always went back to the same thing.

"What is the first order of business?" a Hispanic accented man began. Though he wore a suit and tie, his head donned a luchador mask, the mask itself colored in reds and blues over a white background. The moniker this man chose was El Sombrero and unlike his name, his abilities were nothing to scoff at.

"From this point on, every action we take, every move we enact, it will all be for one common goal: the utter destruction of the Batman," the nondescript man announced, coming to a stop and placing his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together. "I know many of you have your doubts, and no one ever said it would be easy, but when everything comes together, what we will have accomplished will be nothing short of a work of art. I will accept nothing less than the complete and utter ruination of a noble human spirit."

There were many nods, though whether it was from agreement or something else, the man did not know nor cared.

Continuing, "If you look down at the files in front of you, each contains your assignments and your targets. All you need to do is successfully carry out the instructions within and you will have played your parts magnificently. Do not concern yourselves with anything the others will have to do."

"While I love the simplicity, I do have a question, Doctor," another man in a green-blue and red suit and tie spoke up. With a head covered in a mop of combed red hair with a laurel reminiscent of Ancient Rome and his skin powdered white, Charlie Caligula spoke with a tone of petulance and a glaring eye towards one fellow who had also not taken a seat.

The Doctor glanced to the figure in question, the shadowed man keeping himself obscured. "Ah, you speak of our residence Gotham expert. His knowledge and knowhow will be instrumental for this undertaking. Never you mind him."

"Then why has he not taken a seat?" Caligula demanded. "What right does he have to remain aloof if he is so instrumental to this cause?"

"Your jealousy is unwanted, Charlie," the shadowy figure retorted, speaking for himself. "I have no need to explain myself to you or any of your lot. There are plenty of people here who could do your tasks, better than you I imagine, but the 'good' doctor here wants you to play the role. So either shut up or become expendable. Your choice."

"I will let him speak for himself," the Doctor said belatedly, his lips curving upwards in amusement.

"Did you hear that? Did you hear how he spoke to me?!" Caligula exclaimed, his eyes wide in fury as he looked to the other seated individuals. "How dare he-"

"Shut up. No one here wants to hear your screechy voice so keep it to yourself or I will make you expendable." A large man in brown, leather bodysuit glared down at the much smaller Caligula through green colored lens. A wide, brown helmet covered his head in its entirety, tubes connecting the headgear to an oxygen tank that was attached to his back. His voice was given a metallic quality thanks to the helmet.

It was obvious to all that King Kraken cared nothing for perceived slights Caligula believed he had suffered.

"Well said, my piratanical friend, and for the rest of you, remember, you're all new to Gotham. You're the away team playing on Batman's field." The mysterious person talked with a blunt tone that cared about their feelings just as much. "I can see it just by looking at you; you all know none of you are in Batman's league, yet here you are ready to take him down. That is why you will follow your roles to the letter. You want to go down in history? Just do what you're told."

"Indeed," the Doctor cut in swiftly. Now was not the time for dissent to begin, not after all the time and effort put in already. "This whole business, this game, has been in play for quite some time, years." Leaning forward, he used his posture to underscore his next words. "Everything to the smallest detail has been crafted and put into place over a period of time that for it to go to ruin instead would be more than enough to sign your own death certificates. Know that this organization is more than qualified to accomplish such a mundane task. Keep to the plan, and do your parts."

"If I may? I have noticed that there seems to be an emphasis on other variables," El Sombrero said, looking up from the file that had been placed before him. While Caligula had been complaining, the masked man had taken his file and read its contents. "Why is it that you want me to focus on some children?"

"Because as Gotham has changed, the Batman has changed. Everyone here knows about what happened in this city recently." The shadowy strategist answered before the Doctor could, his tone lecturing. "The Batman has begun to accept the aid of other vigilantes in this city whereas before he threatened and rejected them. Not only that, these vigilantes have begun working together, a camaraderie born out of war and necessity. You have to be a fool to ignore them. Batman may be the goal, but if any of these amateurs interfere, they could mess everything up.

"I have paired you to each vigilante or vigilantes based on your skill sets and theirs. El Sombrero, I would like to use your expertise to imprison any of the Birds of Prey or the Junior Batclub should they prove too disruptive. Though they know how to use their fists, death traps, your forte, are beyond their capabilities. Until you can construct what you need to, the others will serve as diversionary forces to keep the second stringers busy. That means King Kraken will deal with the Kiddie Squad. I've already asked for an updated version of your...outfit to be made, Kraken.

"As for the ladies of the night, I do believe Scorpiana will be more than a match." Several eyes skimmed over to one of the few females at the table. Compared to the rest, she wore a skin-tight body suit that covered all but her slim legs, knee-high boots taking care of the rest of her legs. What was more noticeable about her, other than her slim figure, was the helm she wore, one designed like a scorpion. Small protrusions extended from the sides and resembled the recognizable claws that the arachnid was known for. The back had an even longer protrusion, this one designed as both the body and the wicked tail, complete with a stinger at the end. She nodded her head, going along with her instructions, though her reasons were known only to her. "That leaves the rest to do everything else."

"And what will you be doing while we toil in the mud?" Caligula snarked.

The hidden benefactor gave a chuckle. "Why, I'll be handling Batman myself."

"What?!" the pale faced Italian squawked. The informant now held the attention of the rest of the table.

"This is all diversionary, right up until the moment of truth," the shadowy figure explained. "If his attention's on me, it won't be on you and that's what we want. Remember what the Doctor told you, and do what you're here to do. You all want to be part of the big time? Now's your chance."

"Your only chance," the Doctor confirmed, putting himself back into the center of attention. "The only thing you need to know is that this place will be our base of operations until further notice. Return here when necessary, and do try to be mum about it. The Batman is already in our grasp, and he doesn't even know it. All we need to do is tighten our grip and watch as he falls apart.

"Before this is over, the Batman will learn there is no escape from the grip of the Black Glove."

* * *

Quality Tool & Die was comprised of a small central office with a large lot, a bigger warehouse at the back with a fence surrounding the entire premise. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the place from what Batman could detect. The security system in place was clearly outdated, but did its job well enough not to be replaced. It would capture anyone that attempted to climb over the fence, or break into the warehouse.

Of course, such a system was easy for the Dark Knight to avoid. The camera recording the backdoor to the office building experienced a temporary shortage, one long enough for Batman to pick a lock, and sweep into the office.

Ignoring the main room, the vigilante made his way to a small office room, where a desk with a computer was placed. Along the wall was a pair of file cabinets, each one with four drawers. It was to the cabinets Batman went to, opening one of the drawers and rifling through its contents. Finding nothing of note in the first drawer, he shut it and opened the next one.

He stopped at a file, pulling it out of the drawer and resting it on top of the file cabinet. Flipping it open, he found several receipts papers, yellow carbons to be exact. Such papers belonged to three page receipts, the top page being white and the bottom two being carbons, one yellow and one pink. Everything written on the white page would be transferred to the yellow and pink copies depending on how hard the writer pressed their pen on it.

Unfortunately, if the dates on these yellow carbons were any indication, they were six month old and not in the time frame he was looking for. Closing the file, he put it back into the file drawer, leaving it open as he turned his head to search the room. If these were old carbons, the new ones were probably placed elsewhere.

As luck would have it, there was a wire-mesh basket on the desk, a small sign labeling it NEW TICKETS. Walking over to it, he picked up all the papers that had been placed in it and began rifling through them. The dates on each page indicated they were today's invoices.

And they stopped three days ago. So then, the invoice he was looking for had already been processed. If this business had all of their tickets in a to-be-checked basket, there had to be one for recently inspected ones. Placing the papers back into their basket, he noticed a second wire-mesh basket next to it, labeled SCANNED TICKETS.

There were fewer invoices in this basket than the previous one, the vigilante noted. Picking them up, he searched them and found what he was looking for. This was the yellow carbon for the invoice for Thomas Payne. The man's signature was at the bottom of the page, written with a flourish. Strange, the handwriting looked familiar.

Studying the page, Batman came to the conclusion that whatever information Quality Tool put into their computer system was minimal at best. Based off of the invoice, he had the very backhoe registration number he had been tracking, along with expected duration for the equipment. It seemed Payne had rented out the backhoe for two weeks starting...last week. And there was a name of a company that Payne represented, Z.E.A.

Z.E.A...Batman wasn't familiar with that name. Possibly initials for something? Glancing to the computer, the dark-clad man wondered if this Z.E.A. had used them before. Walking around the desk, he hit the power button for the computer, turning it on. It took several minutes before the system was up, something expected from a model built in 2005.

Opening up the START menu, he typed in the search bar "customer" and waited to see what the computer brought up. A number of Excel and Word files appeared, along with the QuickBooks application. Scanning the list, he then opened an Excel file titled Customer List.

It took a minute for the file to open since the Excel program needed to turn on. Once it was, he began scanning through the file until he found Z.E.A. A grimace appeared on his face as he saw this was their first transaction with Quality Tool-a dead end.

Perhaps a search using a search engine could give him something. Closing the file, Batman then opened a web browser, the Google homepage appearing soon after. Typing in Z.E.A., he ran the search.

Unlike computer itself, it seemed the internet connection was top notch. Immediately, Google located a page full of results, the top being...some Korean boy band called ZE:A.

Scrolling down the page, he found a Wikipedia page for zea as well as a restaurant. At the bottom of the page though, he found Z.E.A., along with a home page. Clicking on the link, it opened to a new homepage, a white background with pictures of young adults hanging out with each other. Z.E.A. was at the top of the page in big bold, black letters. "Let the games begin," he muttered as he read a small tagline beneath the Z.E.A. header.

A small jolt of pain stabbed into his forehead, causing him to grimace for a moment. He was starting to get a headache, perfect. Scrolling up and down the homepage, he noticed a few more links, some of which were using foreign languages in their type. Most likely those were for people speaking in different languages.

For a moment, Batman found himself staring at those links, his headache growing more and more painful. Grunting he looked away and took a couple deep breaths. A couple moments went by before the headache began to relieve itself, but it was a dull throb behind his forehead.

The stress of this was getting to him. While Batman had been under incredible stress and strain before, this was different. A part of his mind was constantly focused on Alfred, never letting him forget that the man was missing. This was a different stressor than anything he had faced before and he had been ignoring any signs of fatigue and stress. Why it decided to rear its head now was strange, but he could look past it.

It was very possible he needed some rest, probably some food as well since he ignored all but the basic needs of the body-read, toileting. He'd rest once he finished this case, that much he would allow. Until Alfred was found, he could not rest.

Would not rest.

* * *

Author's Note: fun fact, ShadowMajin actually did the Google search on ZEA and the results as presented in this chapter are real. Yes, contrary to popular belief, you do not get what you're looking for on the first link. Fanfiction has lied to you. Another fun fact, some of the dialogue in this chapter are verbatim from the comics. Anyone care to figure out which lines are which? And lastly, yes, the characters introduced here are also real DC characters.


	4. Atop a House of Cards

Atop a House of Cards

The car barely came to a full stop before the canopy slid open and Batman was hauling himself out of the vehicle. His feet touched down before the engine stopped rumbling and he was walking straight for the supercomputer an instant later.

Last night had not been as fruitful as he liked it to be. His search of Quality Tool & Die had given him a couple leads, but none of which he could follow through right then and there. Thus he had returned to the Cave to make further progress. Admittedly, the sun was starting to rise, so his search had gone on for the entirety of the night.

Reaching the supercomputer, he immediately awoke it from its hibernation status. Ignoring all the other windows that had been running analysis on the backhoe the day prior, be began doing searches on the leads he had gathered. Z.E.A. was at the top of his list and the first search he performed.

Setting up a few more searches, he then checked the other windows, finding the analyses to be complete. The first he came across were shoe imprints found in the dirt around Alfred's grave. Eliminating his own shoe size, he inspected the findings, discovering there were four sets of footprints. So it had taken four men to remove Alfred's casket, give or take the backhoe operator. Each one wore men shoes, sizes ranging from 7 ½ to 12.

Minimizing that window, he moved to the next. This one was an analysis over the tire tracks found near the grave. According to the findings, it was a tire size belonging to a truck, or trailer. The model of tire was in line with a popular brand, so there wasn't anything too distinguishing there. Chances were it had to be a truck since the graverobbers would not want anyone seeing their cargo. A moving van, perhaps? Opening yet another window, he put in a command for moving van rentals, specifically by Thomas Payne, or Z.E.A.

One by one, he checked the other windows, closing them down if they didn't provide him any further leads, or setting them aside for further consideration. He even checked his searches, finding the computer still sorting through the trillions of—

No, wait, his search of moving van rentals completed. Focusing on that window, he saw there had indeed been a rental, this by Z.E.A...as represented by Payne. So Payne was definitely linked to this Z.E.A. Alright, who was this rental company and what more could they—

His computer beeped. Batman paused as he glanced at a flashing light. That one indicated a phone call was coming in to the Manor. A part of him wanted to ignore it and he was going to.

Except, his brain caught up and realized that wasn't an alarm for the house phone. It was to his cell phone.

Pulling off his mask, Bruce set it aside and allowed the fatigue of the night to affect him. It would make for a convincing, tired, and just waking up playboy billionaire. Hitting a button, he answered in a very grumpily tone, "Who is this and why are you bugging me?"

"_Bruce, it's Lucius,"_ came the response. Already, Bruce could feel his mood souring. Wayne Enterprises was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment and he really didn't have time nor cared what it wanted from him.

"What is it now, Lucius?" he whined. "I'm trying to—"

"_You can sleep later."_ This caused the dark-haired man to blink his eyes in bewilderment. Lucius _never_ cut him off like that, not unless he felt it was something of great importance. The thing was, he was usually right. _"You need to get your butt to Wayne Enterprises immediately."_

Bruce paused for a moment before he hesitantly asked, "What is this about, Lucius? Can't it wait for another hour or two?"

The line was silent for a moment before an aggrieved sigh came over the receiver. _"No, this can't wait, Bruce. You need to get to Wayne Enterprises right now, or I swear to God I will drive out to your house and drag you here."_

This was not happening. He had too many things going on right now to deal with the family business. Yet, the tone his long-time friend was using was warning him that perhaps he needed to at least check on this. "Alright, let me shower and get dressed. I'll be there—"

"_Within the hour, Bruce,"_ Lucius immediately cut him off. _"That's all the time I think you have and I know you can make the drive here in less than that. Call me when you're on the way and I'll cover for any delays. Understand, this is not a joking matter."_

And with that, Lucius ended the call. Owlishly, he stared at the computer console, unsure of what had just happened. He knew that Lucius wouldn't call him unless it was important and he wouldn't have used that tone with him if it wasn't. Perhaps he needed to heed the man this one time.

Glancing up at the computer monitor, he then shrank the windows until only the desktop was visible, not that it was loaded with desktop icons or anything. It was just a blank, black backdrop, only with several grey tabs at the bottom of the screen indicating all of the windows that were open and running programs.

Turning away, he began taking off his armor. There was a shower nearby, so he'd do a quick rinse off here and go upstairs to a nearby room. There would be a couple suits there that he could get dressed in quickly rather than making the entire trek back to his bedroom. There were a few other sets of clothes too, namely bed wear should he have unexpected company late at night.

Hopefully, whatever this business was at Wayne Enterprises, it would be dealt with shortly.

* * *

Bruce kept his stride even and slow. That was the walk of Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire. He rushed for no one and on one rushed him. A part of him was anxious about Lucius's call, but he couldn't act out of the ordinary.

Strolling to an elevator, one just so happened to open before he even pushed the button, a few people exited the elevator, which he in turn boarded. Hitting the button for the top floor, he waited patiently, one hand fidgeting with a cufflink, the only sign of his anxiety.

The moment the elevator doors opened, he stepped out, only to have a secretary—Lucius's to be exact—move right up next to him. "Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox would like you to meet him at his office," she told him.

"Thank you," Bruce replied before he walked towards Lucius' office. It seemed everyone was just a step ahead of him as the man in question suddenly exited his office, his head snapping right to him.

"You've really done it this time, Bruce," Lucius said to him the moment he reached him, only for the older man to begin leading him towards the boardroom. "The Board is not happy with you."

Already, the younger man could feel his worry turn into annoyance. This is what he had been dragged up here for? The Board wanted to ream him? He had no patience for such things. "Is this why you had me drag myself out of bed?" he asked, doing nothing to hide his irritation.

Lucius shot him a look, one that plainly told him not to act petulant. And there was something else, something warning him. "I've been warning you about this for years, Bruce," he reprimanded him. "I told you something like this could happen and you let it. Your negligence is coming home to roost and by God, if I have to drag you in there, I will. We have a ton of damage control to do and I don't think this meeting is going to solve all of it."

Bruce would have let out an aggrieved sigh, but did so internally. There was only so much childishness he was willing to exhibit, especially to Lucius. The man did have his own interests in mind. "Alright, let's get this over with," he grumbled.

By then, the two men had reached the door to the boardroom, Lucius opening it. The moment Bruce passed through the threshold, he found the Board in its entirety staring back at him. Glancing from face to face, the ones that he could see anyways, he read them in an instant. Some were defiant in their gaze while a few looked away uncomfortably.

And then there was Lincoln March. The man was looking right back at him, expectantly, coolly. Walking around the table, Bruce found his chair and took a seat, Lucius doing the same at the head of the table. "So, I understand you wish to see me?" he prompted the group.

"That's right, Bruce," Lincoln replied as he shifted in his seat. "The Board has many concerns in regards to your absenteeism and neglect of the company."

The billionaire stared at the man. "Has Wayne Enterprises been losing money?" he questioned. He looked to the rest of the Board. "Has my management caused this company any problems?"

"Oh, there have been problems." Lincoln opened a folder that was resting in front of him. Lifting up a piece of paper. "Your...nightly shenanigans...have been hurting the company's image."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, but my personal life has nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises."

"It does when incidents like the Man-Bats serum occurs," Lauren Granger spoke up, surprising the dark-haired man. "You going out and partying when so many people in Gotham were affected by those attacks were out-of-touch and hurt this company's reputation. It took years before we recovered from that fiasco."

"As I recall, that was due to our pharmaceutical branch not monitoring the projects," Bruce defended before glancing to March. "And you just happen to be the director of that branch, March."

"But it is your job as CEO to also know about the company's projects, which you always are ill-informed and oblivious," the man countered. "There have been numerous attacks on Wayne Enterprises employees during your tenure as well. And then, you haven't even been promoting Wayne Enterprises at those parties you're supposed to attend. In fact, you haven't been attending any of them. I would know since I do attend and I don't see you."

Bruce wanted to scowl, but that was not in line with his public persona. "I've had other obligations that—"

"That's another thing." It was Brian Jennings who interrupted him. "We've heard this excuse before and no one knows what that means. I believe the Board deserves to be informed."

This time he couldn't help but narrow his eyes slightly. "Again, what I do in my personal life is just that—personal. You have no reason, or right, to ask me that. Wayne Enterprises has had record profits that last few quarters."

"But is that because of you, or in spite of you?" March pressed. "With your absence at functions, not to mention your neglect of the company's inner workings, it has to be asked what exactly are you contributing."

Slowly, Bruce began looking at each and every face of the Board, seeing many that hadn't been able to look him in the eye earlier staring right at him. It was as if everyone here was ganging up on him. Even Lucius was just watching the proceedings, his hands clasped together in front of his face.

"Alright, what's going on here?" Bruce demanded, allowing some of his anger to leak out. "What is this meeting about?"

March straightened out his posture as he closed the folder in front of him. "There is a growing number of people that believe that Wayne Enterprises can function without you being present. In fact, we've been doing that for the last couple of years. This meeting isn't to address our concerns with you.

"This is a meeting to vote you out as CEO."

A cold, numb feeling overwhelmed Bruce, flowing throughout his body. This...this couldn't be happening. Slowly at first, then with the rush of a wildfire, rage burned through the dark-haired man. "You have to be joking." He openly scowled, directing his ire right at March. "No, you're insane. There is no way I'd allow you to vote me out. This is my family's company and I will be damned if you take it from me."

"You don't have a choice in the matter." March leaned forward in his seat, a look very much like a shark writing itself over his face. "All it takes is a supermajority of the board to remove you. We'll of course offer you an acceptable severance package—"

Bruce slammed a hand down on the table, startling the Board as many looked at him with wide eyes as he cut off March. "I don't have time, or the patience for this farce!" he shouted. Standing up, his chair sliding across the floor before toppling over, clattering on the polished floor, the billionaire said, "I will not stand for—"

"That's enough!" Dithers roared as he glared at the younger man. "You've done enough damage and it is well within the Board's right to consider your aptitude for your position. You've only yourself to blame." He then leaned forward in his seat to emphasize his next words. "Now sit down, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce couldn't help himself. "I...will...not," he growled, his voice dropping out of his high-octave billionaire voice into the lower-register of Batman. It took him a moment to realize just what he had done, which caused him to glance at the Board. If his outburst hadn't surprised them, they were all now staring at him in astonishment. Even Lucius was looking at him incredulously. Clenching a hand tightly into a fist, Bruce took a couple of deep breaths before he stopped back and knelt down, picking up his chair and setting it back up right. He then moved it back to the table, where he took a seat. "Let's get this over with," he grumbled moodily.

* * *

There was always a nice kind of satisfaction you got when a job was well done. From all the chatter about Nicholas Galtry's arrest, Tim felt like a man accomplished. After letting Beast Boy work out some aggression, the call was placed and cops were there, maybe a bit too quick on their part.

Something to think about later. What really mattered was the proverbial rabbit hole left behind, one the GCPD fell into and had no choice but to investigate fully. Because of Galtry's status of wealth, some of the upper ranks were involved in the investigation and with each and every sordid detail that came out, it would be harder and harder to defend such a criminal.

And this would only be the beginning.

Reading the last paragraph of one such article that covered this little incident, Tim shut down the iPad so that he could concentrate on more important things. Still, he couldn't help but think about the various news organizations covering the mess. Even the sleazy tabloids were getting in on it.

Certainly, it was a change from the relatively unknown takedown of the Church of Blood. No one really cared about those guys and were more interested in the latest alien invasion adventure.

Okay, enough of that stuff. The loose ends were all tied with the exception of one. That one was getting his teenaged teammates back to Jump City and to make sure they stayed there. The welcome in Gotham was already wearing thin and the teen didn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention. In his experience, though, it was best to get a headcount before shipping out of the local marina.

...on a borrowed yacht of all things, yeah, but he'd figure out what to do with that later. It was an incredible amount of luck its owner hadn't come looking for it, and them by proxy. Seemed like Bruce Wayne really was a chill guy.

Strolling across the deck, the Gotham native/transplant began his search for the others. It didn't take long to find the girls, and how was it not easy? Each stuck out for various reasons. Starfire, or Kori—her real name was a little hard for him to properly pronounce even after all this time—was on the deck, specifically the bow. Apparently that was the best place to catch some good sunlight, and heat made this alien from the stars nostalgic. Tim certainly understood the feeling; Gotham was to his left with its massive skyscrapers and crime-ridden alleys. Home was right there but he couldn't' take it with him or stay in it.

In the yacht's bridge, sitting on a couch was Raven, the pale-skinned girl reading from a large tome—yeah, that's what that really thick book was called—with her hood down. She looked comfortable so Tim didn't feel the need to disturb her. Besides, she already knew he was there, checking up on her, but wasn't going to point it out. No point, that was most likely her reasoning.

"What's up, Red?" And there was Cassie, or Wonder Girl as she was often teased. She too stuck out, mainly because compared to the others, she was mundane in appearance, but for the average guy, she was hot. Worst part was, she knew it, but admirably she didn't take full advantage of it. The key word there was "full."

Cassie was an endless source of teasing, and taunting depending on the situation. Lately, her snark levels had been ratcheted up to a hundred, but it seemed like she was getting comfortable again. Despite the fact that she used to burgle before he came across her, the girl was not the biggest fan of change of any kind.

Since she was in a pleasant mood right now, Tim felt he would go with it. "Making sure we got everything. We took care of all our business here, and it's time we start heading back. I don't know how much longer my folks are going to buy my excuses. So doing a headcount before we pull up anchor and head out. Plus, looks like it's going to be a nice day, you know. I don't see a cloud in the sky anywhere."

"Not gonna tell your friends here goodbye? Oh wait, let me guess, you already did it." The teenaged male wasn't looking at the hot blonde but he could feel the smirk on her face.

"Did it before we paid Galtry a visit. They're all expecting me gone right now and I wouldn't want to disappoint them."

"Oh? And you're not going to introduce us? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to keep us away from them. Or is it them from us?" After so many months, Tim was finally able to recognize what was genuine, playful teasing, and what was snarky taunting. Thankfully, this was the former.

"In all seriousness, if this was Jump, I'd be more willing. This isn't, it's Gotham," he explained. "There are things here that it would be best to avoid. No sense inviting trouble, especially when this city will give it to you whether you want it or not."

"This is new," Cassie remarked. "You seemed to like butting your head into my business whenever you could. Still do. I would have thought you'd want to stick around a little longer."

"There's a story, and I'll tell you once we've set sail," the teenaged male answered. "It's a bit long and...why's it so quiet?"

It had just occurred to him; with as many teenagers as there were in such a small space, it was quiet, way too quiet. Running over his head count, Tim let out a groan. He was three for five. The duo of Victor and Garfield could never be silent for too long. There had to be some kind of noise, whether from their own vocal cords or from a speaker of some kind, television, computer, radio, you name it.

"You've seen the guys? Cyborg and Beast Boy?" he asked. Tim noted how Cassie scrunched her nose, a sign that she was giving the question some actual thought.

"Now that you mention it, I have no idea where those idiots are."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear. That was the furthest thing from what he wanted to hear.

"Maybe Raven or Starfire will know," the dark-haired male said aloud, voicing his desperate hope.

"So that explains why I was able to get so much reading done," had been Raven's answer. Obviously, she did not know where the other two males were. While her tone made the cloak-wearing girl sound disinterested, there was a subtle hint buried in it that revealed that she was peeved. What that annoyance was was anyone's guess.

Starfire, it turned out, had a better lead. "I saw our two friends leaving the vessel some time ago. When I asked what they were doing, Gar said something about...the word is difficult for me as its meaning was not explained to me. Excuse, but the exact word, I believe, was 'sightseeing.' I struggle to understand what this word means. Is it something bad?"

Sightseeing. Those two. In Gotham. Take a deep breath. Exhale.

Struggling to keep his emotions in check, Tim asked the resident alien, "Do you know how long ago this was?"

"It is very fortunate that I have been able to grasp your measurements of time much faster than your colloquialisms. If my estimate is correction, it has been approximately two or so of your Earth hours, though it may be less than that."

That was way too much time and who on earth knew where their errant teammates were. Gotham was huge, bigger than Jump City. They could literally be anywhere and doing anything that could attract the kind of attention that the young vigilante did not want. He wasn't just thinking about the criminal element either.

"Okay, we can't leave without them. We need to find them. Raven, think you can try and hone in on them?" Tim requested, thinking out loud while he was speaking. His stress levels were really starting to spike right now.

"Those two surrounded by nearly ten million people? Maybe more? Possible but it will take time," the empath answered after considering the task he was asking of her.

"How much time?" Now was not the time to be vague.

"No clue. Unless either of their emotional states spike for whatever reason, it will take however long it will." Raven wasn't going to be comforting now, was she?

"Aren't you close with Cyborg? Can't you just zero in on him?"

"Like I said, his emotional state will need to spike first, and unlike some people, Victor tends to remain calm more often than not. It usually takes a lot to get that kind of strong emotions out of him."

"What about Beast Boy?" He was grasping at straws right now.

"What about Beast Boy." Raven's tone implied that she could really care less about the green kid.

"He's usually more excitable, right? Must be leaving a trail of excitement behind or something."

"And you imply that I want to be victim to how strong his emotional states can be. I can get a headache when we're in the same room. I find it easier to keep him out of my head so that any bombardments he thinks my way don't knock me out." A logical reason spoken in a deadpanned tone.

Okay, now they were running out of options.

"So, Red, any thoughts how we're going to track those morons down?" Cassie asked, leaning back with her arms folded. Unlike other times where she would sound like she was taking delight in his frustration, right now the blonde was empathizing with him. Maybe she wanted out of Gotham more than him. A question to ask for later.

Swallowing and finding out his mouth had gone dry, Tim decided to put some kind of plan into place. "We're going to have to search the city for them. No flying, I want us to keep a low profile."

"What, you think the crooks here are going to be a problem?" Cassie asked, a bit of snark leaking out. However, before he could engage her in a battle of wits, she suddenly had a thought of her own. Tim only knew this because the blonde suddenly said, "Or is it you don't want to get the cops on us. We are on a stolen boat."

Yeah, there was also that, but the cops weren't the only ones Tim was concerned about.

"I'm not worrying about any of the criminals we might run into. I know we all can handle ourselves. It's the people who fight those criminals that might have a problem," he stated.

Memories of two blank, white eyes glaring down on him flashed through the teen's mind.

That was the real situation he wanted to avoid because he knew it was not going to be a pleasant event.

* * *

He felt numb. Everything had just wrapped up, but Bruce's mind was not in the present moment.

He was still coming to grips with the results of the vote. It was near unanimous; he was no longer the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Other than himself and Lucius, the rest of the Board voted for ouster, even the Crypt—Dithers, a man who had been with this company since his father had run it.

Just like that, his company, his father's legacy, had been stripped from him.

Like the cowards they were, the Board members were leaving, none making eye contact with him. In a matter of minutes, the billionaire was alone in the conference board, still seated at the long table. He was alone, accompanied with only a severance package.

Despite it all, even with his rational and logic based mind, the dark-haired man still couldn't grasp or process the last twenty minutes of his life. There was a part that was in denial, that this was a bad dream, one he would be waking up from at any second. Another part was raging, naming all sorts of tortures he wanted to place the board members into. Another wanted to sink into the floor, and hide from the humiliation. That was but a few of them, and there were many more all warring for control.

A shadow fell over the devastated man, evidence that he wasn't entirely along. "I want you to know, despite how everything happened, this was not personal. It's only business, and everyone in this room only has the best interests of Wayne Enterprises."

Bruce recognized the voice immediately—Lincoln March. The man who had not only led the attack upon him, but was also named the interim CEO until the Board could decide on a new one, Bruce's successor. The gall of this man, standing over him, saying such words.

"Save it, March," he spat out. Those were three more words than Bruce was willing to give the bastard, the thief. He wanted nothing to do with March, and the sooner he got away from the other man, the better it would be for all involved.

Even though Bruce wanted nothing more than to break both of March's legs and do a number on his ribs. Throw in a cracked skull for the "it wasn't personal" line.

"Bruce, listen to me before you leave," March pressed, moving slightly closer but enough that it made it slightly difficult for the billionaire and former CEO to get up from his seat. A hand planted itself Bruce's broad shoulder, trying to pin him down into his chair. "Much of this was avoidable. Too many times have you left and without a word, barely anything to serve as a 'reasonable' excuse. Even here, it was like you were distracted, your mind some place else. Wayne Enterprises needs someone who can commit fully to its well-being, and you've been slipping too much in too little time—"

"I don't give a shit what you think," Bruce snapped, using his strength to shove his chair back and getting enough room to stand straight up. He even knocked March's hand off his shoulder, being none too gentle doing so.

Now he was face to face with March, making direct eye contact. There was no smugness in March's eyes, nor sympathy. They stared back, trading look for look, both pairs of blue eyes unwilling to give in first.

Unexpectedly, March spoke up first, "Look over at that window, Bruce. Do you know what's out there?" March jerked his head in the direction of the panes of glass that lined the wall, giving quite the view of the Gotham skyline and the world beyond.

"I know," Bruce growled, his eyes flashing with suppressed rage.

"Do you?" March challenged. "You know what I see out there? A city that is dependent on this company. Without Wayne Enterprises, it would finally cave in on itself, all the other major corporations and moneyed interest fleeing back to New York, or Metropolis, or even Los Angeles if they're desperate. That's how many millions of people who would suffer. Many of them are employed by this very business." The interim CEO broke off eye contact, strolling over to the windows and coming to a stop in front of them. He looked every bit the lording businessman, gazing down at his kingdom below.

Bruce watched March's every action, not taking his eyes off him. Why he had yet to storm off, his back to the bastard, he could not yet say.

"Come," March gestured towards him with a hand, not taking his eyes away from the view. "Look at what needs us so much. Look at what you fight so hard to protect."

The former CEO couldn't explain what happened next, but his legs were moving by themselves, getting closer to March. Averting his gaze, Bruce looked out into the city—

Pain exploded in his head, the intensity so great he was nearly blinded. His anger, his rage, everything seemed to drain out of him. The sensation of the leather chair pressing into his back went unnoticed, nor did he register sitting down once more.

He...he felt so...so...exhausted, no reason why. Everything just seemed so...so great. So big. And he was so small. Powerless. Practically insignificant.

He couldn't stop himself from losing control of Wayne Enterprises. He couldn't stop Bane from breaking his back and taking over his city. He couldn't stop everyone from leaving...Cassandra's absence was too great. Bruce couldn't recall the last time he had seen the girl, or what she was doing anymore

Maybe...maybe he should just...just do it. Give in. Take off the cowl once and for all and stop being Batman. Stop being Bruce Wayne. Take the damn severance package and disappear one last time. This time, he should go someplace no one will find him. So long as it was far away from here, far away from this pain.

A hand anchored him back, reality returning. Only now did Bruce detect the chair he was sitting in, his posture slumped, hands dangling between his knees. How did he get here, and why did he still feel so tired? Looking up, which seemed to take more effort, he found March looked down on him from above, much as he had the city earlier.

"You really seem out of it," March remarked. "I guess that's to be expected. Everything is happening all at once, there's nothing in your control anymore. Anything and everything that is important to you is slipping out of your grasp. Then again, I shouldn't be too surprised. You always were six steps behind."

Just like that, the world clicked back into place. The exhaustion, the dark thoughts, all of it was gone, like it had never been there. Bruce's eyes were solely trained on Lincoln March, the standing man's face beginning to morph into a sharp, almost bloodthirsty look.

All the while, the words _six steps behind, six steps behind_ echoed on repeat through his mind.

With a toothy grin, March said one more word. "Batman."

At lightning speed, everything in the last thirty, forty minutes, made the last few months or years come into place, and Bruce said only one word that summed it all up. "Hush."

"About time," March quipped as he stepped away, removing his hands from the billionaire. Pulling a small white and green, plastic container from his suit, March placed it on the conference table several feet away, flipping the small lid open. With one of his hands, he fiddled with his eye and removed one, then a second contact lens, putting each one into the container. When March looked back at Bruce, it was not with a pair of blue eyes, but green ones.

Thomas Elliot's green eyes.

"Impossible," Bruce gasped out, his hands gripping onto the armrests of the leather chair he sat in.

March—no, Elliot—burst out with a laugh. "Really, Bruce. After everything you've experienced? You found a way to come back from the dead. Did you really think I wouldn't?"

Such a thing had never occurred to Bruce before. Not before Ra's al Ghul and the Lazarus Pits. Not before time traveling escapades. Even then, none of that could explain why a dead man was standing in front of him, his face bearing a striking resemblance to his own. Elliot had been dead for too long that the Lazarus Pit would have had no effect on his body. The few magic users he knew never bragged about anything involving resurrection.

Everything Bruce knew said that this should be impossible.

"How?" he growled out, his voice deep, much like that of his alter ego.

"That's for me to know, you to never find out." Elliot tapped the side of his head mockingly. "So Bruce, are you sorry now? You took my company away from me. It's only fair game that I do the same to you."

Knowing how intricate and tactical Elliot could be, Bruce realized that the dead man had been planning this for years. Most likely even back as far as the day they had met in the pharmaceutical branch of Wayne Enterprises, no definitely even before that. He could see it now, how his once best friend had worked himself through the ranks until bagging a seat on the Board of Directors. From there, he'd have free reign to influence the minds of the other board directors, using his own absence against him until it culminated into today.

And he himself was too busy fighting for Gotham to pay the close amount of attention that was needed to circumvent it all. Damn it, why hadn't he listened to Lucius when he had the damn chance?

"So what is this? Petty revenge? You're the one who turned Matt Hagan into a monster. That was your doing, not mine," Bruce argued.

"This is more than petty," Elliot retorted. "I'm not finished. Not by a long shot. Not until I've taken everything that matters to you."

"Including my face? It's very shoddy. I wonder how you pulled that off." It seemed like a superficial taunt, but it was a dig that targeted Elliot in the areas he was sensitive about: his skills and competency.

"Bruce, it's almost adorable that you think you can come at me that way. Personally, I think I did a remarkable job." To further his rebuff, Bruce's old nemesis rubbed a hand against the side of his face, almost stroking it. "Though, I have to wonder about your observation skills. I was right next to you for how long? How did you not notice the surgical scars? I see them every time I look in the mirror. What's your excuse?"

"Are you trying to become me now? Is that it? You've copied my face and stolen Wayne Enterprises for what? A temper tantrum that started years ago? Grow up already." Bruce wasn't about to let this man of all people get under his skin. He couldn't show anymore weakness than he already had.

"Become you? Not the intention though I see why you would think that. No, this face was a subconscious cue for all the sheeple you employ here. But if I were, I'm so far ahead, much more than six steps," Elliot remarked. "I've taken Alfie. Now your business. Everything else will follow in time and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Bruce's body seized up. It sounded like a throwaway comment, but he had picked up on that one important piece of information.

_I've taken Alfie_…

Hush had stolen Alfred? Hush was the one he was looking for? The rage he had felt as he stood in front of the empty grave returned with a vengeance, and the billionaire had the most powerful urge to attack his former friend, punching and punching him in that facsimile of a face until he destroyed everything recognizable about it.

But no. No, he needed to get a handle on it. This was not the place to indulge in it, and for all he knew, Elliot wanted him to attack him in such a public place. To indulge would be to fall for the trap and Bruce could not, would not, fall for it.

"But, I get the feeling you're not in the mood to play games right now," Elliot said, a thoughtful look on his face. Those green eyes refocused and zeroed in on the former CEO. "So how's about this? I'll give you a chance to settle things once and for all. Meet me on the rooftop of the Amos Fortune Casino. We'll put an end to our little feud then and there, and if you win, hell, I'll give you back Alfred."

The rooftop of a casino? It took Bruce a moment to recall the efforts from the city to legalize gambling, various interests from the respectable and politically connected to the criminal had been lobbying for years. It was an effort that Bruce had largely ignored. However, once Hady had come into office, everything had been fast tracked and now the efforts to make Gotham into the next Atlantic City were in full swing.

But far be it from Bruce to turn this down. It was an obvious trap; Elliot had something planned, but he couldn't ignore the opportunity to get his opponent out into the open. Years ago, as Hush, Elliot had kept to the shadows, hiding throughout much of their conflict.

This proverbial bone might be too much to pass up.

"Ten o'clock, and come alone," Elliot said offhandedly as he reached for the contact lens case, and placed the lens back into his eyes. "I have your company to run in the meantime."

His knuckles were white from gripping the armchair rests, and that last comment really increased the tension in his arms. However, Bruce couldn't let the bastard get under his skin, not this early at least. Whether Hush knew it or not, he had given him a lot of important information.

Too bad that the questions like how he was alive weren't answered. Even now, he could still picture Elliot's body flying through the air and disappearing from sight, the result of being hit off a building by Clayface. Then there was the body laying in a pool of its own blood, the splatter indicative of a strong impact with the ground.

He was going to get some answers, as well as Alfred's body back, when he was at that casino.

Pushing himself up from his seat, and grimacing at how weak his body seemed to feel, Bruce forced himself to leave the meeting room. He should have expected to be stopped one last time as soon as he set foot out of it, but then again, today was full of surprises and it was Lucius ambushing him.

"Care for a cup of coffee, Bruce?" the dark skinned man invited. Then, in a very soft tone of voice, Lucius added, "We need to talk."

Staring back at the man who pretty much single-handedly ran Wayne Enterprises, Bruce remained silent before nodding his head once. While he needed to make preparations for tonight, there were matters that needed to be settled with Lucius first. First and foremost, he owed his associate an apology for this mess.

Lastly, he owed him a promise to get back everything he had lost.

* * *

Author's Note: That's right, that's freaking right. Lincoln March, like communism, was a red herring all along. You guys have no idea how long ShadowMajin and I have been planning this. This was a reveal long in coming, and now that it has arrived, there are probably going to be a lot of questions. And…you're all going to have to read on to find those answers. What, thought it would be that easy? As reviewer Protocol115 keeps saying, this story might be a bigger game changer than you think. Now, if you want clues, there are a lot of them; in fact, they start all the way back in _Death of the League_. Oh yeah, we've been building up to this fic all the way back then. Practically every story since that one has had something that will be relevant in this story, so if you want, go on a binge fest and see if you can't find them all.


	5. Dominoes Continue to Fall

Author's Note: Seems like the Hush twist is doing a number on you guys. Good, that means ShadowMajin and I did our jobs well. Big things, massive things are underfoot, and hopefully the Dark Knight will now be on his toes. Or is it already too late? Read to find out and enjoy.

Dominoes Continue to Fall

Damn, this place was huge. Everything seemed to loom over you, or something like that. Like, the buildings were looking down on you. Like the walls were closing in, man!

That one was worth a chuckle.

Anyway, Gotham was a big place but it wasn't as...sunny as Jump was. More drab, could really use some color in it. But people didn't come here because it was pretty or anything. Nah, there was really only one thing that people came here for.

The couple of guys wearing hoodies with the hoods pulled up over their heads strolled down the sidewalk, one walking like he owned the place while the other seemed to want to...get smaller? Something like that. More like he was avoiding touching other people.

"C'mon, Cy," the shorter—but not that much, thank you very much!—of the two complained, the visor of a baseball cap peeking out from under his hood. "You look like you're trying to hide something. Lighten up!"

"I think you forget, I am trying to hide. My face at least," retorted Cyborg, his head turning just enough that Garfield was able to catch the glowing red eye glaring down at him.

"You know, a white—or is that gray—hoodie makes people stare at you," Garfield remarked casually, waving a hand in the air as he did so. "They might think you're a crook or something."

"Oh, and you look less conspicuous, Grass Stain? If you're so confident, why don't you take off your hood," Cyborg snarked back, looking straight ahead.

"People, for some reason, think you're sick if you have green skin." Garfield huffed as he crossed his arms, looking off to a side.

"Yeah, I wonder why anyone would think that." It took the green teen a moment to detect the sarcasm, but now he scowled up at his robotic friend, if you could call him that.

"I can't help it if this is all…" Green eyes blinked as his brow furrowed. What was the word he was trying to use here? After a few seconds of a delayed response, he finally added, "...real."

"Hope you didn't fry too many brain cells right there," Cyborg quipped, and the shapeshifter could feel the smile on his friend's lips even though he couldn't see it.

"Oh shut up." No, he was not pouting. He wasn't, damn it!

Well, Cyborg didn't shut up. No, the guy had to keep talking. "You still have the map?" Oh wait, that was something important to mention.

From the large front pocket on his hoodie, Garfield removed a few sheets of folded paper. Opening them up revealed printed copies of a city map, that would be Gotham in case you were wondering, and many bat-shaped dots could be found over various points on the inked images. "You think I'd lose something as important as this? C'mon! You got to give me some credit!"

"Uh huh," the larger teen grunted. "Can you figure out where we are?"

Garfield looked down and stared blankly at the sheets of paper. He shuffled through a few of them, full out frowning as he tried to figure out the answer to the question. "Um...how do you read these again?"

"Why the heck are you holding them if you don't know how to read them?" Cyborg demanded, snatching the print-outs and quickly going over them.

"You were the one who gave them to me and said to hold on to them. Nobody ever taught me how to look at maps or know how to use them!" Garfield complained.

"And why didn't anybody teach you?" the robotic grumbled, not taking his eyes off the printed maps.

"Duh, I was being enslaved and had my mind erased," the green teen fired back with a deadpanned tone of voice.

Cyborg paused, looking up from the map to stare blankly straight ahead. "Oh yeah." Okay, now the bigger teen was looking awkward, like, really awkward. "Um...oh hey! Would you look at that! Do you know where we are?"

"Uh, no? I've never been here before."

"Right there!" Cyborg exclaimed pointed directly into the street where a bunch of cars were all stuck in traffic. "You know what happened right there?"

"Are you gonna tell me?"

"That's where the Night of Ice started. Right freaking there!"

"No way!" Green eyes were wide and trying to peer around the backed up cars. What he was looking for, he had no idea. Was there any ice left over? Nah, probably not. Still, it would be awesome if some were left behind. You know, for a souvenir!

"And if we head that way, we'll find the spot where the Batmobile crashed, all covered in ice!" Cyborg continued, his only human eye lit up with excitement.

"What are we waiting for! Let's do this!" Garfield cried out, ignoring the looks he was getting from all the other people walking the sidewalk around them.

Yep, their Batman safari adventure, or whatever you want to call it, was only getting started. Who knows, maybe they'd get lucky and see him too.

That would be awesome.

* * *

The waitress set down two porcelain cups, steam from the boiling liquid within wafting into the air. Bruce hardly noticed, merely wrapping his fingers around the handle, but no more.

The smug look on Tommy Elliot's face was burned into his mind. In fact, he was picking apart every little thing the two of them had spoken about over the last few years. The fact that Elliot took a position in the pharmaceutical branch had been nothing short of a dare, one to provoke him, which he hadn't. He had done a good job sucking up to him until he took a chair on the Board, then suddenly grew distant. He should have known.

If he had been paying attention, he would have.

"I'm sorry about all of this, Bruce," Lucius said to him before he picked up his own cup and took a sip. "I truly am."

Bruce had to force himself to pay attention to his longtime friend. Even looking at the apologetic look on the older man's face, he had a hard time not seeing Elliot's gloating one. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

"Without question. However, I could have done a better job of steering you in the right direction instead of hoping you'd come to your senses." Lucius set his cup down and regarded the younger man. "I had a feeling Lincoln March was up to something. I noticed whenever he was talking to the board members, they would stop talking around me. That was my first clue. I should have told you about this sooner."

"I rather doubt that would have changed anything," Bruce admitted, releasing his grip on his own cup, not even a drop sipped. "I let one too many things take precedent over Wayne Enterprises."

"You had a good reason though. Your adoption of...Cassandra, is it? That wasn't an easy endeavor. I'm surprised you didn't bring that up to be honest."

"Like I said, that's personal and none of their business." And as it turned out, for the best. If Elliot knew about Cassandra, she would have a target on her back. Though it was likely he did know about her, he just didn't care. Hopefully.

He'd need to inform her of this, so that she would be on her guard. Though she wasn't at her best, a lot of her skill had returned to her and Bruce was confident in a hand-to-hand fight, she could fend off Elliot, even if he did bring his guns.

"Besides, I rather doubt it would've changed the outcome of the vote. Maybe I could've swung one or two votes, but that's about it. March had done too good of a job turning everyone against me."

"Well, not everyone."

For once, the dark-haired man came out of his dark thoughts and offered Lucius a warm, tight-lipped smile. "I won't forget this, Lucius. I promise."

Lucius returned the look before he took another sip of his coffee. Thinking that was a good idea, Bruce finally picked up his own and took a sip, feeling the familiar burning, bitter drink running across his tongue and down his throat.

Lucius then set his cup down on the saucer that had been brought with the drink. "Tell me, Bruce. If I could get Wayne Enterprises back, would you be on board?"

The words were out of his mouth before the thought even crossed his mind. "Of course. That's my family's company, Lucius. I can't stand the thought that it's in anyone's hands other than mine."

"You wouldn't be able to be a silent partner, though," Lucius told him. There was a hardness in his eyes, as if he were critically analyzing him. "You would have to be fully invested in the company. Would you be able to do that?"

That gave Bruce pause. As much as he liked having a Board of Directors handling the day-to-day operations, if he had to take over all of it, would he be willing? His efforts as Batman would have to be pulled back, but that was why he threw his support behind the Network, so that the rest of the city's vigilantes were properly supported and equipped. And with Cassandra trying to find her own place in the vigilante community, maybe he could give her more of his responsibilities.

It was definitely something to think about.

"Let's say for now that I would be willing," he ventured, returning Lucius' critical look. "I'd have to know what you have in mind."

"You just let me worry about that," Lucius replied. "I need to make sure we cross our T's and dot our I's if we do. There's no coming back once we do it, that much I can promise you. Just wait for my call."

That sounded like a long-term plan. Fine, he'd let Lucius handle it. That way he could put an end to Hush and get Alfred back. Reclaiming Wayne Enterprises could be put off for now.

"I'll do as you say," he sighed in response.

"Now let me make myself clear." At this, Lucius leaned towards him, his expression the most serious Bruce had ever seen it. "There will be only one shot at this. You screw this up and there will _not_ be another. And you can kiss your family's business goodbye, along with myself. Understood?"

Bruce nodded. "Understood."

Both men then took a sip from their respective cups, though it was clear Lucius was just about done with his. "Oh, and something I should let you know," he added casually. "It seems like one of your yachts has been stolen from a port in the Florida Keys."

When it rained, it poured.

* * *

"How hard is it to find these guys? One's a robot and the other's green! They should stick out like sore thumbs," Red Robin grumbled to himself.

It was broad daylight, the streets were full of activity, and he was in full costume on the rooftops, trying to keep a bird's eye view as best as he could without being seen. It sucked so much, but what sucked even more was that he couldn't find his two errant Jump City...pals. Let's just leave it at that.

Currently, the four of them that had remained had split up into two groups. He had Cassie and Raven on the streets because a, they wouldn't stick out so much, b, could move about incognito, and c, could take care of themselves if someone tried anything with them. Oh yeah, and d, they could suit up almost instantly; Raven with that weird magic of hers and Cassie with that weird armor of hers. Meanwhile, he and Starfire would take the high ground, for Starfire her orange color and hot looks would attract way too much attention, and for himself, yeah, he did not want to chance certain people recognizing him. Not all the Blackgate escapees had been captured; odds were some happened to be part of the Two Ton Gang and would remember everything about Two-face unmasking him.

So no, he wasn't going to be taking a chance with that, even if the danger was already past.

"_Seriously, how do you lose a state-of-the-art cyborg and a green kid? How do you even lose sight of them?_"

No folks, that was not his inner voice reaming himself a new one. No, that voice was all too real and belonged to Oracle, his former no-nonsense teammate turned vigilante computer hacker. Also, she was his personal Santa Claus but that was a story for another time. The big story here was that she wasn't happy with him for obvious reasons.

"_Why are you still in Gotham, anyway?_" Oracle continued to rant even though Red Robin was fully confident that she was at her station trying to find the errant teens herself. "_Aren't you supposed to be back in Jump City already? Or halfway there? You know, someplace far away from Gotham?_"

"I told you, we needed to take care of that business with Nicholas Galtry first, and I didn't take them halfway across the world to not do that," he argued back over the earpiece he wore. "That stuff should be already be on the net, right? A guy who sells a kid into slavery for his trust fund ought to make big waves, right?"

"_Not as much as you're banking on. More people are interested in what they're going to do to Bane and his crew, or what's left of it. It's barely a blip on the radar._"

That was so unfair.

"_But seriously, do you not have some leashes for those two?_"

"If they're so easy to find, why haven't you found them?" the masked teen retorted as he began a jog, picking up enough speed to make a jump to the next building. After nailing the landing, he kept on the move, hoping and looking for a new vantage point.

"_I didn't_ _wake up this morning thinking I was going to be looking for two out-of-towners. What I should be doing is getting more intel and funneling it to the rest of the Network._"

"And I really appreciate all the help you're giving me. I will make this up to you, I promise." He didn't make promises lightly, so that had to count for something.

"_I'm still pissed off about those cult videos I had to watch._" Really? But...but that was like...nearly a year ago or something. Was she really still holding that against him? Hadn't he already paid that debt off? Hadn't he?

"Okay, what do you want? A shipment of Ben and Jerry's? How long are you going to hold that over my head?" The young vigilante came to a stop and began scanning the streets below, searching for any signs of either Cyborg or Beast Boy. Last he checked, Cyborg was wearing a hoodie, and he only knew that because the metal teen only brought one outfit with him for this trip. It was his street clothes, or at least that's what Cyborg called them. If he could find the street clothes, hopefully he would find both of the stooges with them.

"_That sounds like a good start. Hopefully you have some cash saved up because you will need it_."

Aw man.

Red Robin grumbled under his breath, hopefully quiet enough that it wouldn't get picked up by the earpiece's receiver. Since Oracle wasn't speaking up about anything he said was promising, but that didn't mean anything because she could bring it up later, when he wasn't expecting it.

Damn it, where were those assholes? Didn't they know what position they were putting him in with this stunt? The masked teen could feel the eyes on him, watching him disapprovingly.

No wait, that was Starfire. The rustle of wind against her tight outfit gave it away; also there was the distinct lack of a cape.

"I have yet to find out missing friends, Red Robin," the transplanted alien reported.

"We need to find them. They have no idea how things work in this city," he stated, sharpening his gaze as much as he could in the hope of maybe, just maybe, spotting them and bringing this to an end.

"I have noticed that you are greatly stressed, on the...end I believe it is said," Starfire remarked.

On the end? Did she mean on edge? Probably, but he wasn't about to correct her right now.

However, there was that quality in the Tamaranian's voice that always invited one to open up, and the Gotham native found he could not ignore that siren call. "I know, but if you know what I know, you'd be just as concerned."

"Are our friends in danger?" Starfire asked, concern laced in her voice.

"Not...exactly, but I don't want to tempt our luck anymore than we already have. We've been in Gotham too long, and I'm worried that...that we're going to attract the wrong kind of attention. Also, there's a reason why I left in the first place. Cyborg and Beast Boy taking off like they did happened at a really bad time."

"I know that you don't say much about yourself, and you keep much to yourself," Starfire commented as she floated right next to him before touching down on the rooftop. "I hear the urgency from you, but I do not understand the reason for it being there."

"It's a long story." Whoa, that came out a bit more gruffly than he had intended. "Really long, and I don't know how much time we have."

"Is there not a condensed version of it that you have made for the occasion there is no time for the original?" the Tamaranian wondered aloud.

It took a second to process that. "The short version? Well, let's just say I did something stupid and it put the people I know and love into danger. I left Gotham to protect those people." Huh, that was really short, wasn't it?

"I feel there is much you are putting aside." Not going to touch that one. "Does this have anything to do with your desire to leave this place?"

The masked teen had to think about it. "A little, but there's one big reason. Probably the more important of the two."

He could feel the Tamaranian's eyes on him, questioning. "What is this reason?"

"Batman."

Was there even a need to say more than that? No, that one word answer was all that was needed.

"Batman?"

Apparently not.

"He's like a legend here. He does not like it when there are people on his streets that he doesn't approve of. Yeah, you could try and fight back, but one look is all he needs and you want to do what he says. Everybody talks a big game but then they meet him and that…" He was about to say "goes out the window," but he had a feeling that would go over Starfire's head through no fault of her own. "...that's pretty much it. I respect the guy too much to get him mad at me, so to avoid all that, I want to find our friends and get out before it becomes a problem."

"I see. Then let us not disappoint your Batman so that he does not look at us with parental disapproval," Starfire said.

That was very well said.

"_I totally agree with her._"

The peanut gallery needed to shut up and how sensitive was this earpiece?

* * *

Someone had tried their best to destroy everything here. Very little remained about the tragedies committed here.

Corrigan was not disappointed. His skills as a detective would come in handy while he processed this place.

Magic and supernatural forces tended to leave a little bit of themselves behind; not even the most skilled of enchanters could wipe such taints away. Even the most basic of extra sensory perception in the lay person could pick up on magical residues under the right circumstances.

The first place to start was the large blood stain in the middle of the room; so much had been spilled here that it has soaked into the pavement itself. Even with something as purifying as fire, nothing would ever remove it in its entirety.

Crouching down, Corrigan studied the stain, being careful not to touch it himself or let his green trench coat run against it. What could have possibly required this much blood and what spell needed so much? Dark arts were at the top of his list, and it was possible that this stain had been created over a long period of time.

The only thing that could be confirmed was that a spell had been cast here, and it was directly where this blood had lain.

Standing back up, the detective walked about the room, coming to what was seemingly a random wall. The taint, the same kind intertwined with the blood, could be detected right here. The absence of any stains pointed to a totem resting here, maybe several, or an artifact of some kind that hosted the same power.

He could barely make out the outlines of what might have been a piece of furniture; the room was full of dust, some parts thicker than others. The only shoe prints belonged to him so he could rule out the person or people who used this place.

Eyeing the blood stain, he felt a hunch that it was people.

Stepping away from the wall, he approached the stain once more. Holding out a hand, he began to trace in the air a rune. Wherever his finger was, it left magical residue that could be seen with the naked eye, each stroke bringing the floating rune closer to completion until he stopped moving.

Staring into the magical symbol, Corrigan waited for the spell to be cast, the green glow of the sigil eerie in this place. Without warning, the green light turned into a light-swallowing black, and the detective scowled.

"Figures," he grumbled as he swiped his hand through the rune, dispelling it. Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued, "we have someone or someones meddling with forces beyond their comprehension, like always. Fact this place was hidden means that this may not be something that someone found on the internet. This place was designed deliberately for this stuff. So at least there's someone who has a clue."

And then someone came to clean it up. Why? When the place was so well hidden kept mum, why dismantle it? There was definitely a little more to this, and based on the dust, the removal had to have happened a few months ago, maybe several.

Regardless, there was a trail here. The dark vibes he was getting from that stain, he could barely pick up on the trail that extended from it, heading towards the stairs that led out of here. Well, that was typical for a standard summoning, but because the blood was all in one place and not everywhere, it made the detective think this wasn't demonic. So ancient, ancestral evil or maybe a god? Something that wouldn't go on a killing spree as soon as it arrived.

Wait, there was a third possibility.

Well, he needed to investigate it regardless, if only to rule it out. Damn, and it has to be in Gotham City. Why couldn't it be in, oh, Metropolis? Central City? Someplace that didn't have supernatural forces embedded in the bedrock?

No one said that this stuff was easy, right? It was time to do some research, find out all the details that the city didn't want you to know, and he wasn't talking about the politicians and bureaucrats. This was the kind of stuff that went bump in the night and unknowingly left clues in its wake that you could spot only if you knew what to look for.

It still didn't make in any easier. No matter, this is what he did, even if few to no one else would ever know about it.

Back into the awaiting evening the detective went, hot in the pursuit of this latest mystery.

* * *

Author's Note: If you're wondering about Corrigan's investigation, the place he was in has been brought up before. Heck, even Batman stood in it once. I'll leave you all with that.

FlackAttack: Do not forget that once upon a time, Hush was also a business CEO of a large corporation. He may have an easier time than you think However, this won't be a focus on this story. As for Batgirl, it really isn't in her character to really care who the other vigilantes are. All she needs to know is where or how to find them, and that's about it. The name Helena Bertinelli really has no meaning to her, at least in this continuity. Lastly, with the Titans, this chapter ought to hint at things to come.

Guest: Okay. Any thoughts how we can improve?


	6. Angry and Annoyed

Angry and Annoyed

Batgirl was staring at the photo. The wheels were turning, but it wasn't certain if they were moving in the right direction.

Helena watched with a close eye. The photo was of a crime scene from one of Manhunter's legal cases. It had been settled a long time ago, but she had a hunch Batgirl didn't know anything about it. That made it the perfect material to assess her deductive reasoning skills.

Before lessons could be done, it was always important to know where the starting line was. If Batgirl was a natural, they could fly through this whole experience. However, she had the feeling that the young girl was lacking in that department. It was no fault of her own since she always had someone doing the heavy lifting.

"This man was killed," the girl said finally. She then looked up to Helena for confirmation.

That was easily the most obvious answer. "What else?" she pressed. If this girl wanted to be a detective, she had to know more than that. "Tell me everything you see."

Batgirl stared at her before returning her attention to the photo. She continued to sit in her chair, staring at the picture, searching for answers. She then looked back up to her. "He was shot?"

"Are you certain?"

Again, she looked down before returning her attention to the dark-haired woman. "Yes."

"Try again. If he was shot, where's the cast off pattern? Where's the bullet wound? Does the position of his body indicate he had been shot and fell to the floor?"

Much like one of her students, Batgirl seemed to shrink in on herself before looking straight down at her lap. Incidentally, she had laid the photo there, so she was looking right at it again. Heh, that was exactly like her students.

"Umm, H?" Dinah called out. "What exactly are you doing?"

Helena looked away from her awkward pupil and to the leather-clad blonde. All three of the women were in costume, the two older women standing while Batgirl sat in a chair by a table. They were at the Birdcage in the room outside of their locker room. Huntress wasn't sure where the lockers had come from since they hadn't been there when she was originally with the Birds, but some had been installed. Obviously the ladies had gotten them in bulk since there were several in there. Regardless, she had her pick when she rejoined.

"What does it look like we're doing?" Helena replied, looking to the blonde. Since they were in the safety of the Birdcage, she saw no reason to refer to Dinah by her name. Of course, she'd never say it out loud since they had an outsider here.

"It looks like you're quizzing Batgirl for some reason." Dinah crossed her arms under her chest. "Why, I don't know."

Helena clapped a hand down on Batgirl's shoulder, which caused the girl to look up at her. "I'm assessing Batgirl's critical thinking skills. She wants to learn how to be a detective and solve crimes."

The blonde woman stared at her. "Aaaand why isn't she learning that from Batman?"

Immediately, Helena felt the girl stiffen beneath her hand. "Batgirl wants to get out from the Bat's shadow, so she came to me. Since I'm not one to turn away people in need, I agreed to help."

"So why did you bring her to the Birdcage?"

"Where else is she supposed to learn?"

Dinah was clearly stumped by that before she gestured for Helena to leave the room with her. Looking down to her student, Helena said, "I want you to keep studying that picture. When I come back, I want you to tell me everything that's happened in it."

Immediately, Batgirl nodded before once more focusing on the picture. In the meantime, Helena walked over to Dinah, her purple cape billowing behind her as the two women moved into the next room.

"Alright, you need to explain yourself a little better," Dinah said the moment they were alone. "Why in the world did you bring Batgirl here and why is it you teaching her detective things instead of Batman? If there's anyone that should be teaching her that, it's him."

Helena had been expecting this. "It's just as I said, Batgirl is trying to be her own hero, out of Batman's influence. I'm not sure when she came to that decision, but I found her the other night out on her own, staring at a crime scene and thinking it would give her all of the answers."

Dinah stared at her. "She was on her own? Without Batman?" That wasn't a surprising response either. Before the incident with Bane, it was well known Batman didn't let Batgirl out of his sights if he could help it. And it seemed Batgirl didn't mind either.

Yet, something had happened where the two were going their separate ways. That was completely out of the ordinary. Now, she knew damn well Batman wouldn't let his sidekick be completely on her own, not without some way to keep track of her, whether she knew it or not. So, when she found her at that crime scene, she knew she needed to take this girl under her wing. At the very least, it would placate Gotham's Dark Knight.

After all, he had done the same thing when she had left the Birds of Prey.

"Your guess is as good as mine as to why," Helena shrugged. "All I know is that she was trampling around a crime scene without any idea on how to investigate one. At the very least, I got her away from contaminating it further, but she does need to learn. She was real adamant that she didn't learn from Batman."

"Okaaaay." There was a silence before, "So why bring her here? Wasn't there somewhere else you could go?"

"Oh, right, I could always take her to my house. Or what about yours? That would make for a great picture," the dark-haired woman snarkily replied. "She's not going to be out of uniform around others and that's not exactly a person you want hanging around civilian dwellings. This was the best place for her to go while protecting our own identities."

Dinah stared at her before the light bulb came on. Yeah, it seemed those blonde hairs weren't just for show. "Okay, I get that. But why you? Why—?"

Helena raised a hand to cut her off. "We've just gone over that. I know I'm not the most ideal person to teach her, but at least I know how to teach. Between me and the rest of the Birds, I think we could make her a half-decent detective."

That caused the blonde woman to narrow her eyes. "You're up to something."

The dark-haired woman shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe. Just think of it: Batgirl is one of the best fighters in the city, no question about it. She can give Katana a run for her money. We were already a force to be reckoned with; this makes us damn near unbeatable."

"Unbeatable to who? Criminals? We were already beating them easily."

Helena gave Dinah a look. "And what about people like Bane, or Shiva? You know, the people that cleaned our clocks without breaking a sweat?"

Dinah opened her mouth and then paused, the perfect demonstration of a goldfish impression. "Okay, you've got a point," she admitted begrudgingly.

"And since she wants to learn different aspects of her craft, it is up to us to help her."

"Okay, okay, you can stop," the blonde interjected, raising a hand up to stop Helena. "I guess we can let her tag along."

Helena shot her an incredulous look, not because she was in disbelief, but to annoy her friend. "You guess? What, do you need to see her resume too?"

Dinah glared at her. "Don't sass me."

"Hey, all I'm saying—"

Dinah moved her hand and drew it across her throat, a clear gesture to shut up, or death was imminent. "Just...go back to your trainee, alright? Leave me alone to collect my dignity."

Helena smirked at her before she turned to go back to Batgirl. After all, she was teaching her and she couldn't let her student down.

* * *

His footsteps echoed louder throughout the Cave. In the privacy of his own home, Bruce gave no care as to appearances. He was angry, furious. He wanted vengeance.

_Vengeance…_

There was an echo of a voice in his ears, deep, low, and monstrous. The image of a red monster flashed before his eyes and just as quickly vanished. Bruce was quick to shrug it off, a passing memory from a time he had all but given into rage. Since his vision wasn't tinging with red, he was certain it was just his mind bringing back his most furious moment.

However, he knew he couldn't go after Hush mind-muddled. He needed to be cautious and focused. He couldn't do that if he went in half-cocked.

Storming up to the super computer, he tapped a few keys before pounding the last one especially hard. There was a moment of silence before the sound of a phone ringing filled the Cave.

"_Hello?"_

"It's me."

There was a pause. _"Me who? There's a lot of me's I know."_

"Zatanna, it's _me."_

"_Oh, hey Bruce,"_ the magician greeted cheerily. _"This is unexpected. Has Hell frozen over, or something?"_

Bruce ignored the jab. "I need to pick your brain. Do you know of any way to resurrect someone?"

He could almost feel Zana frowning on the other end of the line. _"Well, there's the Lazarus Pits, as you're very familiar with."_

"What about magical means?" he pressed.

"_There's a couple incantations I've heard of, but they're very obscure. In fact, they're so obscure, it would take someone centuries just to figure out what's involved with one such spell." _She paused. _"Is something going on, Bruce? This isn't some mundane subject you're asking."_

"Today, I met a man I was certain was dead," the dark-haired man informed her. "His appearance was different; in fact, you could say he looked a lot like me, save that his eyes were the same color as his original body. He wore contacts to disguise that fact. I'm trying to figure out how he's come back."

"_Again, Lazarus would be my guess since there's a pit not too far away from Gotham."_

Bruce shook his head. "Ra's keeps an eye on every Lazarus Pit across the world. If someone other than him used one, he would know about it. In fact, he would've gone after the user and killed them. The fact that Tommy Elliot is back goes against that. He would have had to be exposed to the pit shortly after his death to be in as good of health as he is."

Except Hush had indicated he had plastic surgery performed. Was it possible he was trying to repair whatever damage had been done due to decay and had to change his entire appearance?

"_Tommy Elliot? Who's that?"_

The billionaire paused. He had forgotten Zatanna wasn't familiar with Hush. That incident had happened before she arrived in Gotham. "Elliot...was a friend right up until he permanently disfigured a Hollywood actor with a pharmaceutical product he was trying to develop. He blamed me for not backing him up and set out to get revenge on me."

"_Was that the guy with all those bandages on his head?"_

Bruce blinked. How did she know that? "How would you know that?"

"_I saw those videos you made, remember? You were in a fight with this guy who called himself Hush and he knew who you...were…" she trailed off. "Oh God, Bruce, are you serious that he's back?"_

Well, that certainly cleared up a lot. Zatanna along with the heroes that would go on to form the Justice League had spent some time on his computer while he was one of Ra's al Ghul's foot soldiers. Not particularly one of his favorite moments, but it served to get the magician up to speed. "I'm afraid so. He disguised himself as one of my employees and rose through the ranks until he earned a place on my Board of Directors. He led a successful revolt and had me ousted from my company."

There was an even longer pause, then, _"I'm coming right over, Bruce. I'll be bringing some of my spell books to see if we can't figure this out."_

"That isn't necessary. I don't want you to get—"

"_Hey, you contacted me because you need help,"_ she immediately cut him off. _"You wouldn't have done so unless you really needed it. So whether you like it or not, I'm coming over and I'm going to help solve this thing with you."_

"Not tonight you're not."

"_You're seriously going to pull that on me again? Haven't I proved myself already, Mr. Grumpy?"_

"You have," he acknowledged.

"_Then what actual reason do you have for me not coming over to help you?"_

"Because you have a show tonight and I really don't think you can afford to cancel it."

There was another pause before Zatanna sheepishly replied, _"Oh, right. Fine then, I'll come over after the show, alright? My troupe has a couple weeks off after that, so I can really help you."_

"That's fine." Though, Bruce had no inclination for allowing Zatanna to get caught up in this fight. If everything worked out the way he wanted them to, this incident with Hush would end tonight with Alfred on his way back to his grave. He just had to make sure he didn't screw up at the casino.

* * *

It was in the Batbunker locker room when Dick learned of the news.

"You have got to be kidding me," he groaned, combing his fingers through his hair. A text had been sent to him, requesting contact urgently, and oddly enough it reached him moments after his shift had ended. Already, he knew who it was, but had waited until he reached a secure location, the bunker in this case, before making the call.

Barbara had got him up to speed with what was going on with Tim. In short, this was a powder keg waiting to happen. If Batman found out that the kid who had to leave Gotham was still here after all the shit with Bane ended, it wasn't going to be pretty. For Tim's sake at least, this search and rescue mission needed to be done ASAP.

The rescue part wasn't for the pair of missing teens, but for Tim.

It didn't take long for him to change into his "business clothes;" so many times doing it had allowed him to figure out little tricks to speed up the process. He was doing a check of his gloves, clenching and unclenching his hands to make sure they were fit snugly while trying to coming up with as many locations as possible to go searching.

Sightseeing, that was the excuse that had been relayed to the young adult. Had Tim checked the tourist attractions here? Since the sun was starting to set, the ones most tourists went to should have already been investigated. Because there was no word or announcement that the quarry had been found, Nightwing had to assume that those places had been looked into and nothing was found.

So—

The door to the locker room was pushed opened and two certain girls that hadn't been on his mind for the past several minutes strolled in, completely unaware of what was going on. Stephanie was talking her head off, Harper had this look that screamed she disagreed with what was being said solely based on principle and not fact, but neither showed any surprise to see the oldest member already suited up.

"Yo, what's this about missing people we've been hearing about?" Harper greeted, casually walking up to her locker.

Nightwing stared blankly at the girl for a few seconds, his thoughts from earlier in the day returning. Seemed like Oracle was bringing them in too, had even given a general rundown of what was going on. Did this mean the task at hand wasn't too dangerous? There was no chance of finding something that could get them all hurt or worse, right? He couldn't let that happen again.

"Hello? Earth to Nightwing?" Stephanie called out, waving a hand in front of his face. Reflexively, the vigilante batted the hand away.

"Oracle has told you everything, right?" he responded, getting straight to business and keeping his thoughts to himself. He had only been recalling the times when he and Barbara and Tim had tried to get involved in seemingly innocuous crimes or situations and then find themselves neck deep in some serious next level shit. Seemed like that happened every time.

"Couple of missing kids. So where are we looking first?" Harper said and she was pretty quick in getting changed. Her actions seemed to betray what her cavalier attitude was trying to hide. Was she thinking about her brother and using her worry to fuel her for the night?

"Did she give you anything else other than that?" Nightwing asked. He was slipping his escrima sticks into their holsters, you know, for easy carry and all.

"Said you would give us the details, so what are they?" Stephanie answered, the blonde girl in the middle of changing. The older man kept his eyes averted out of a sense of modesty.

"These kids are associates of Red Robin. Remember the team he mentioned when we were talking about going to Peña Duro? Well, two of them decided to go off the rails and are somewhere in the city. I know, doesn't sound like something super important, but both of these kids happened to have superpowers and the last thing we need is someone stupid doing something stupid and possibly causing a stupid incident that we're going to have to clean up."

"Excuse me, but 'off the rail?'" Stephanie was throwing a look of confusion his way, even as it was blocked by her slipping part of her costumes over her head.

"Like a train rail, or a rail shooter," Harper explained.

"What's a rail shooter?"

"It's a kind of video game."

"What kind of video game?"

"Way off topic, girls," Nightwing finally interrupted. He felt like pinching the bridge of his nose. While he was no stranger to banter, what with doing it himself whenever Tim was around, the vigilante found his tolerance for banter was at an all time low. "Let's keep this simple; there are two boys, one tall, the other short, one is a cyborg so look for metal covering any part of the body, and the other has green skin."

"How do you lose people like that? You'd have to be really incompetent," Harper remarked, going silent so that she could put on her domino mask.

"I know!" Stephanie agreed, throwing on her cape and hood.

Oh Tim, you were really going to get reamed after all this.

"That's who we need to find. The fact that the news hasn't been blowing up about it means those kids are keeping a low profile, so they might be wearing disguises," he continued. "I'll check in with Oracle and figure out where our starting point is. Check your gear to make sure you have everything—"

"We know, _Dad_," Bluebird mocked, even though she did as she was told, examining her nearly trademark taser rifle.

Sighing, Nightwing raised a hand to his ear. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"_You need all the eyes you can get if we're going to keep this mum_," Oracle retorted.

"You do know this is how it all begins. We start with something small, like finding missing people, investigating murder scenes, finding trucks full of fear toxin," he rattled off like he was reading from a grocery list.

"_I know, you don't want anything happening to them._" Oracle's voice was calm and trying to be reassuring. "_That's why you're all going to stick together and not split up. Now I want you to head over to the shopping district. It's been a couple hours but our targets might have headed over there again. Let's keep you all safe while we're at it._"

Nightwing unconsciously nodded his head, then grimaced when he realized what he was doing. However, he found that he spoke next, he couldn't resist making a reference to Bluebird.

"Yes, _Mom_."

* * *

"_Big news in the financial district today as Wayne Enterprises, in a stunning vote, ousted long time CEO Bruce Wayne. Known more for his partying lifestyle than his business acumen, the Wayne heir was voted out of his position by the company's Board of Directors, which leaves the company without a Wayne running it for the first time since its founding. Wayne Enterprises Pharmaceutical head, Lincoln March, was appointed as the interim CEO until a search can be conducted for a permanent replacement. Sources have said the reason for this ouster was the—"_

CLICK

"—_in a stunning turn of events, Bruce Wayne, the heir to the Thomas and Martha Wayne fortune was just removed from his position as CEO of Wayne Enterprises, the first time such an act was—"_

CLICK

"_Well, Bob, it was well known that Bruce Wayne wasn't exactly the brains nor the reason for Wayne Enterprise's successful run as many believe company President Lucius Fox had more to do with the business side of things. One could say—"_

Talia narrowed her eyes at the television screen. All day long, the news media had been having a field day with her Beloved's removal as the leader of his family company. Every news channel was reporting on the exact same story, attempting to tell it in just as many ways.

She was very well aware of how her Beloved kept the various aspects of his life separate. As Batman, he was honorable and determined, a stark contrast to the bumbling fool he presented himself as Bruce Wayne. If only these fools could see him for what he truly was.

"_In other news today, Bruce Wayne was just removed from—"_

CLICK

Shutting off the television, Talia tossed the remote away. She had quite enough of this circus. Standing up from the chair she sat in, she walked over to her office desk, taking a seat there. On top of the table was a folder, opened to reveal several black-and-white photographs. She had seen them before when they had first been delivered, but now she was going to be taking a second look.

The pictures were of an open grave, a tombstone situated next to a tree. The words ALFRED PENNYWORTH had been carved into the stone. Each picture was of a different angle, along with a backhoe that had been found abandoned on the Wayne Manor property. Though Talia had never met the man, she knew of his significance to her Beloved.

Factor the grave-robbery and her Beloved's loss of his family company and Talia could smell something foul was afoot.

This was not a coincidence. No one simply dug up the body of a long-deceased man without having nefarious plans. The timing of it happening just before her Beloved's ouster was hardly coincidental. Already, she had her Order of Assassins scouring the city in search of this Pennyworth's body if only to assist her Beloved in this dark time.

The Order, much like the Society and League of Assassins, were just one of her father's many Fangs; however, this one had been left to her command early in its formation, a gift from her father. They were loyal to her first and followed her command at a moment's notice. When the Demon's Fang had left Gotham following her Beloved's return to this city, they stayed behind with her as she cemented herself as part of Gotham's burgeoning social circle. A girl needed protection after all. Besides, who better to keep an eye on her Beloved then her own personal guard? It was how she even knew of these transpiring events.

Aside from searching for Pennyworth's body, they were also searching for the man responsible for this travesty. They would find this person, she had faith. No doubt her Beloved would be doing the same following his own course.

However, that meant there were two sides with two different perspectives. No doubt her Beloved had investigated his loved one's grave for leads and were following those. While her Order had done the same, they may have found something he hadn't, or vice versa, and were thus looking in other directions. For Tallia, she could not help but recall a conversation with her Beloved's second-in-command at Wayne Enterprises.

It was during her search for accommodations after the fall of Wonder Tower. She had met with Fox and purchased several properties from him, one of which she now resided in, along with the headquarters for Head Development Corporation. He had spoken to her about certain rumblings within Wayne Enterprises and had made a proposition to her. It seemed that conversation was a precursor to this matter.

Clearly, someone was after her Beloved. However, if they thought they would get away with this, they were sorely mistaken.

The door to her office swung open then. "Mother!" the shrill voice of her child echoed throughout the room. Looking away from the photographs, Talia watched as Damian stormed up to her desk. "Have you seen the news?" he demanded.

"I have, Damian," she replied, looking at him stolicly.

"There is something sinful afoot, Mother!" the child proclaimed, his trademark scowl on his face. "We must help Father!"

So, even her own child could sense something was wrong. His education was coming along just fine, it seemed. "I have come to the same conclusion, Damian," she told him. "The Order is searching for leads and following them."

"And what of us? Shouldn't we be out there as well?"

At this, she shook her head. "Not yet. We cannot reveal ourselves this early."

"But we have to do something!" he protested, exasperation writing itself all over his face. "We can't just sit here!"

"We can and shall. Patience is an assassin's greatest asset. One does not give away their location until they are absolutely sure they have a killing strike and that is what we'll do. When this person believes they have won, we will be the knife that stabs them in the back and slits their throat."

And Talia had every inclination to be the hand that delivered that blow. No one messed with an al Ghul nor their chosen. It was never good for one's health. For now, she would wait for her opportunity.

And it would present itself in time.

* * *

FlackAttack: Like you said, a business like Wayne Enterprises would be too big for any one person to run it all. While Elliot does have an ego, he has been willing to put it aside if it means success later down the line. Running a successful company like WE would require that. Batgirl could serves as a humorous view of the world of Batman, that is if the Titans don't monopolize all the humor for this story. Speaking of which, they haven't called themselves that name yet and that was intentional. There are still many plans for these kids, don't worry.

You know, you make a very good point about the non-murderous villains. Can't speak for SM, but I myself didn't catch onto that. Then again, the murderous ones are more interesting provided you don't oversaturate the field with them. Maybe we can address this in a later story. As for Fries, he had one shot of glory back in _Rise of the Fifty Daggers_. Has he been in that cell for nearly ten years? Maybe. Going to have to count up the continuity years again.


	7. A Royal Flush

A Royal Flush

The Amos Fortune Casino was a gaudy place, much like most casinos. Neon lights proudly proclaimed its name out front, other lights lighting up the property to the point it appeared as if daylight were present. The parking lot was full with the cars of gamblers, recreational and addicts. Even now people could be seen flowing in from the parking lot through the front door of the casino.

The wind whipped at Batman's body as he glided through the air, arms extended out as he held onto his stiffened, glider mode cape. He had parked his car a few blocks away, grappling the rest of the way through construction sites and nearly completed structures. No sense in alerting Hush to his presence until the last possible second. Closing in on the roof, the moment he touched down on the rooftop, he released his cape, allowing it to go limp and cascade over his body.

Unlike the rest of the casino, there weren't any gaudy light fixtures here. In fact, the lights from the front of the building helped create shadows here, which allowed his dark costume to blend in. There was a roof access to one corner of the roof, along with large A/C units humming from use. The rest was a wide open expanse, revealing very little cover. Behind the vigilante, a gigantic A extended up into the air, the first letter of the neon sign declaring the Amos Fortune name.

Not that he needed to blend in. Standing out in the open on the rooftop was Hush, his trench coat ruffling in the wind. His back was to the Dark Knight, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.

"You're early," Hush suddenly remarked before turning around, revealing his bandaged face to the vigilante. It came as no surprise to Batman that the man was aware of his arrival. He would've planned for it accordingly.

Standing up to his full height, Batman growled, "Where is he?"

A smirk formed on Hush's face, not the least bit hidden by his white wrappings; in fact, the bandages moved as if they were his face rather than covering it. "All in due time, Batman. Alfie is in a safe location, so we can wail on each other to our hearts' content. I know you wouldn't want him harmed in the crossfire."

Meaning Alfred wasn't here. Hush was toying with him and he knew exactly which buttons to press. Batman couldn't say he wasn't enthused by the prospect of beating the information out of his former friend. In fact, he preferred it. "This is the last time I'm going to say this: Return Alfred _now._"

"Oh, I highly doubt that. We've only just begun this game and I would be remiss if I allowed my advantage to be wasted. Sure, it wouldn't be hard to regain such an advantage against you, but I've spent a long time, many years and many resources to get to this point."

He was stalling. Though Hush was normally loquacious, he didn't do anything without a reason. Using his cape for cover, Batman began reaching to his belt to pull out a shuriken.

That infuriating smirk never left Hush's face. "Go on, Bruce, do it," he goaded. It was clear he knew exactly what the dark-clad man was up to. "Let's pick up right where we left off."

"You mean with me one step ahead?" Batman shot back.

There was a twitch from the corner of Hush's smirking mouth. That had been a reference to the last words passed between them, the last ones Thomas Elliot heard before his own creation, Clayface, had sent him hurtling to his death. It was a small reaction to be sure.

It was also one Batman took advantage of as he sent a bat-shaped shuriken flying through the air.

Unlike last time, Hush didn't shoot the projectile out of the air. Instead he dove to one side, allowing the shuriken to pass by harmlessly. Rolling onto his feet, he yanked his hands out of his pockets, revealing one of his custom-made handguns. He only held one this time, his other hand clamping down on the bottom of the handle to steady his aim.

He then pulled the trigger, firing the gun. However, by then, Batman had taken off running to his left, all the while throwing a hand out towards his foe. What went unseen was the small pellet that flew from his hand, falling to the roof, where it exploded into a cloud of smoke. The cloud filled the space between them, hiding both of them from sight.

Immediately, Batman pivoted on one foot before darting into the cloud, all the while activating the thermal vision in his cowl's lens. Gone was the sight of smoke and a view of black and purple appeared before his eyes. And yet, he found a blob of red, orange and yellow—Hush. The man was rising up to stand on his feet, not even attempting to take advantage of the smoke cloud to gain a vantage point.

That was a red flag in Batman's mind, but one he shoved aside. Either Hush was surprised by the smoke cloud, or he had another reason for not moving. Either way, the vigilante closed the smoke-filled distance between them and leaped into the air just before he exploded out of the cloud. Swinging a leg, he landed a kick across Hush's face, causing his head to jerk to one side, and his body to stumble.

Landing back on the roof, the thermal setting turning off as the scene of the roof returned, Batman was a blur of movement. Leaning to one side as he moved both of his arms to his right, he then lashed out, swinging his left arm across his body, his forearm and triangle blades striking Hush's gun-holding hand. There was a clash of metal and the gun was sent flying out of the bandaged man's grasp. Paying little attention to where it landed, Batman's right hand shot forward, clamping down on Hush's throat.

Kicking out with a leg, Batman planted it right behind Hush's own leg just before he pushed the man backwards. The bandaged man tripped over the leg, toppling over even as the vigilante held his grip on the man's neck, forcing him down hard onto the roof.

Hush's eyes bulged out as the air in his lungs were forced out, leaving him dazed. Drawing back his left fist, Batman then drove it into the man's face, snapping his head to one side. Pulling the same fist back, he rammed it once more into the face.

"Give him back now!" the dark-clad man roared, tightening his grip on Hush's throat. "Or spend the rest of your life with a tracheostomy!"

For a moment, Hush didn't move, lying there with his face hanging to one side. And then he chuckled. Batman could feel the vibrations against his palm. "You've gotten better," he said raspily due to the pressure on his throat. "I'm pleased by that. That makes your fall all that much sweeter."

Batman slammed another punch to his face. This time he hit Hush so hard, he could see small red spots beginning to form on his bandages, meaning he had broken the skin beneath them and blood was soaking into the cloth strips.

This didn't even faze the man as he chuckled again. "It's a good thing I'm not really trying, otherwise this would be embarrassing," he barked out hoarsely.

"Last chance, Hush," Batman growled, even as he pulled his fist back again.

"You know, one thing I noticed was that you decided to make friends with the other riff-raff in this city," the man remarked. "Far be it for me not to follow your example."

That gave the dark-clad man pause. "What does that mean?"

"It means...you're not the only one with friends."

The movement of shadow caught the vigilante's attention, causing him to yank his head up. Across the rooftop, he could pick out one...two...three...four shadows moving around. Eyes narrowing he jerked his head upward.

Up in the air, he saw flying rectangles. He could only see their bottom sides, which had the design of what looked like playing cards. These flying cards had taken up flying around in a circular pattern, one that was progressively descending through the air. The cards began to tilt to one side, revealing people standing on top of them, using them like surfboards.

And then they landed. In front of the kneeling vigilante was a young man in a puffy red robe, a scepter clutched in one hand, and a smirk on his face. A glance to his left was of a young woman wearing a revealing red leotard and thigh high white boots. To the right was a hulking, dark-skinned youth opting for a black bodysuit with a red collar to plunge down his chest.

One last look over his shoulder revealed the last member of this group, a youth in white with a black and silver hat on his head. All four of them wore thin domino masks, meaning only their eyes were covered by their masks. Oddly enough, each one had the symbol of the club painted on their face, either around their right eye, or on their forehead.

"Allow me to introduce _my_ friends," Hush gloated from beneath the dark-clad man. "They call themselves the Royal Flush Gang. As you can see, they have an affinity for cards."

Batman looked down at Hush. "They're one card short of that name."

"Oh, trust me, that ace is well up my sleeve."

"Not that you'll ever see it," the youth in front of him called out. "Not when you have a King in front of you."

"Or a Queen," the woman added, her hands pressed against her hips.

"I rather doubt you'll be able to beat them since these are special people," Hush quipped. "Go on, Jack, show him."

Batman glanced to the man to his left, seeing that he didn't so much as move, which left the one behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the youth grin at him.

So naturally, the attack came from his front.

The only giveaway was the crunching of gravel. Jerking his head around, he saw King step towards him, holding a hand out towards him. A bright energy blast fired from his hand, causing the Dark Knight to dive to one side, releasing his hold on Hush as he did so. The beam flew through empty air, passing by Jack, who made no move to dodge it.

Going into a roll, Batman ended up on his feet, swinging out one arm. Two bat-shaped shuriken went flying from his hand, racing towards King.

And then they stopped—literally stopped in midair. Staring at them, he then glanced to the other Royal Flush members until he spotted the girl holding both of her hands up. "I've always had a magnetic personality," she gloated before she flicked both of her wrists.

That's when the shuriken were sent flying, only this time at Batman. Throwing himself backwards, he leaned as far as he could as the projectiles flew over his face. Due to his maneuver, he went into another roll, once more ending up on his feet.

And then another shadow fell over him, only this time it was growing. Jerking his head up, he saw the last member of the gang, the African-American hovering high above him, his arms held up by his head. "Now meet Ten!" he shouted as he dropped down on the vigilante.

Darting to one side, Batman avoided the youth's landing, even as he swung both of his arms down and slammed them on top of the roof. Instantly, cracks raced out from where his fists hit the roof before it completely crumbled. Before Batman could react, the floor he stood on gave out and he found himself dropping into the casino below.

* * *

"I don't know why, but this place doesn't seem to...I don't know." Green eyes looked up at a human eye and robotic eye.

"Belong here?" the taller cyborg answered blandly.

"Yeah, that," Gar agreed, turning his sight back to the casino that until now, neither had known would be here.

Since when was Gotham trying to be like Las Vegas? This Amos Fortune place did not look like it should be in the middle of a city like Gotham. It didn't go along with the gothic architecture and vibe that this East Coast city seemed to love. Now, Victor wasn't some geeky…whatever you called people who gushed over buildings, but even he couldn't help but be put off by it.

But wait! It got better! Down the street, he could already see some buildings being condemned and/or demolished, paving the way for more buildings like this to be built. This was gentrification in progress, and Victor could pretty much figure out where this was going. Someone was trying to turn this street into the next Strip.

Okay, the robotic teen was getting tired of the sight. Time to move on and see something worth looking at. Sure, it was dark out but this is when the fun really started, didn't you know?

"Dude!" While it wasn't quite a shout, there was something in the tone of the Green Bean's voice that caught Victor's attention. Glancing down, he noticed the smaller teen was staring up, his eyes wide and huge. Following the green-skinned teen's line of sight, Victor traced back towards the Amos Fortune place—that was a casino, he realized—and landed his gaze on the lit up letters that stood on top of the building.

"I'm not seeing anything," he said blandly.

"I think I saw him!" Gar squeaked. "I saw something black and it was flying through the air and it landed on the roof!"

"Get out of here. You are not yanking my chain. Are you?" At first he sounded incredulous, but then there was that ever living hope that leaked out. After spending a whole day wandering around the city, seeing the "sights," to get the first sign that _he_, you know, the man himself, just might make an impromptu appearance.

Gar turned his wide eyes on the cyborg. "It was so quick, I couldn't make out everything…" Then those green eyes became unnaturally serious. "I'm gonna check it out."

Victor knew that look; it was the one that everyone got right before they did something without thinking it out first. Fortunately, the larger, metal teen was able to reach out and grab his green friend before he could do something stupid, like, oh, changing into whatever animal he felt like while surrounded by a bunch of people who would stop ignoring them at that very moment.

The move was the best thing Victor could have done, because it interrupted the lack of thought process happening enough that the Green Bean frowned up at him.

Casually, he commented, "I think we might need some privacy before you do something that we'll both regret."

"I was just gonna...oh. Right." And now Gar was sheepish. For once, he managed to put two and two together instead of rushing headfirst and making a proverbial mess a real one.

Looking around quickly, the cyborg came up with a plan. "We'll head to the back and then you can work your mojo. Don't do anything like get yourself caught, and I want to make this clear; you better not be yanking my chain on this or I swear I will find something to do that will make you regret getting my hopes up."

"Cyborg, there's a lot of stuff I'll do but lying about Batman ain't one of them." This was said solemnly and with all the seriousness one could expect. So Victor nodded and off they went.

It took longer than either of them cared to admit to reach the back—this place was way too big for its own good—but when they did, Gar was already pulling off his hoodie. Why the hell he was doing that…

"You wore that underneath your clothes this whole time?" Victor stated incredulously.

"Hey, you never know when there's going to be trouble," Gar defended, his red and white, sleeveless jumpsuit becoming visible as he tossed his hoodie and baseball cap over to the larger teen. "And why are you complaining? I'm the one who sweated his ass off all day. Do you even have sweat glands still?"

"Unfortunately," Victor grumbled before his face was making friends with a pair of pants.

"Alright, I'm going in," Gar declared before his human body shifted. Thanks to the green skin and the night setting, it took a second for the cyborg teen to see what his smaller friend had become and he had to stop another groan from coming out as he recognized the small flapping shape of a bat as it lifted itself up into the air.

"Dawg is taking this way too far," he muttered as he balled up the ensemble of clothing that he reluctantly held.

Less than a minute later, Gar was literally dropping back down, landing with a whumf beside him. "You're not gonna believe this!" he exclaimed.

"What? Was it him?" This time, Victor didn't even try to hide his excitement or his hope.

"It was him! It was the Batman!" And there was the confirmation. Oh man, this was sweet! "And he was fighting too!" Oh, you had to rub it in that you got to see the Batman in action! "I think he's having some trouble. Those guys he's fighting have, uh, superpowers."

"And you didn't say this sooner!" Victor almost yelled. "That's it, I'm going up too! I am not about to miss a Bat beatdown and you've already wasted enough time!"

"But how are you going to get up there?" Gar wondered.

"Watch me," Victor stated grimly.

* * *

Debris surrounded the Dark Knight as he fell. Ten was dropping faster than him, falling straight down to the casino floor below. Pulling out his grapple, Batman fired it at the ceiling, feeling the cable go taut instantly before his fall went into a swing.

He glanced down just once, only to see that Ten had crashed down on a craps table, causing the men and women there to scream as they took off running. The table itself was crushed, breaking into pieces from the force of the impact.

Swinging through the air, Batman pressed down on the firing button. This caused the grapple to release more of the grapple cable, which in turn allowed the vigilante to swing downward until he landed on the floor. Disengaging the grapple claw the moment he touched down, the line returned to the gun until its retraction was complete.

An alarm went off in the dark-clad man's head then, which caused him to dive forward. An instant later and an energy beam burned through the air right where his head had been. Going into a roll, the vigilante ended up on his feet, kneeling as he looked up.

Descending through the hole in the ceiling was the rest of the Royal Flush Gang, riding those strange playing cards. King held a hand out in front of him, leaning his scepter against his shoulder. "Eat this, Batman!" he shouted as he fired another blast.

Batman shot forward, running as King continued to fire beam after beam, each one hitting the floor steps behind him. All around, gamblers were crying out as they abandoned their tables and slots, rushing for the exits. That was fine by him; that meant fewer people would get hurt in this fight.

Racing for a set of slot machines, Batman took refuge between two of them. King's energy blasts stopped a moment later. Alright, it was time to get a vantage point on these punks and start picking them off—

Suddenly, he noticed one of the slot machines shaking. One across the aisle from it also began to shake as well, right before both of them ripped off the floor and flew towards each other. There was a deafening crash of metal bashing against itself before the machines fell to the floor.

And then the rest of the machines began to shake. It was then Batman remembered Queen seemed to have some sort of power over metal objects. And of course, he was standing right between two heavy racks of metal machines. Immediately, he took off running, emerging out from between the slot machines before they two tore off the floor and ram into each other.

That was when a fist nailed him in the face. Grunting, Batman stumbled several steps before he righted himself. Shaking off the blow, he searched for its source and found Jack, who was standing several yards away. "I got him!" he announced before he drew another fist back and then threw it.

Much to Batman's surprise, Jack's arm stretched forward, his fist flying right for his face despite the distance between them. Darting to a side he dodged the punch and immediately shot up his own hand grabbing Jack's arm and squeezing down tight. Astonishingly, instead of him getting a good grip on his opponent, he felt his fingers sink into the younger man's arm, almost as if it were rubber.

Suddenly, Jack undid his fist, his forearm continuing to stretch as it wrapped around the vigilante's neck, pinning Batman's upraised hand against the side of his face as the youth's hand clamped down on the dark-clad man's opposite shoulder. "Bad mistake, old man," Jack taunted before his body began to stretch towards him, the young man keeping his legs grounded. Before Batman knew it, Jack wrapped his entire body around him, squeezing down hard. "Now let's see you get out of this one!"

Batman struggled as he lunged from one side to another, trying a poor attempt on throwing the young man off of him. Blinded, he ran into one of the slides, feeling pain explode through his head from the blow. "Ouch, that had to hurt!" Jack's voice reverberated around him. "Better do something quick, or you'll run out of air!"

Unfortunately, Jack was right. However, if he thought he had the Dark Knight pinned down, he was sorely mistaken. Attempting to move his arms, Batman found that he couldn't move his left as it was pinned by his head. His right, however, could. Moving it, he slid it down to his belt, and reached his hand into a pouch. He knew each one by memory and he found exactly what he had been looking form. Slipping his fingers through the groves of his electrified brass knuckles, he pulled his hand out and made a fist.

The moment the electricity began to dance along the brass knuckles, they shocked right into Jack's body. "Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" he screamed as his body immediately loosened around the vigilante. Batman continued to press the brass knuckles against Jack until he completely released his hold, allowing him to dart out into clear air.

And then Ten came ramming into him, leading with his shoulder. That shoulder hit Batman dead center against his chest, sending him flying through the air, over the wrecked slot machines and into the wall far behind him. A cry ripped out of his mouth as he crashed into the wall, bouncing off of it and falling to the floor.

"I got you good, Dork Knight!" Ten gloated as he began walking towards the vigilante, cracking the knuckles of one of his hands. "Now I'm gonna hit you even harder!"

Holding himself off the floor with his hands and knees, Batman tilted his head up and glared at Ten. Shoving himself up onto his feet, he pulled out one of his shuriken, pressing his thumb into its body before a red light flashed.

"Oooooh, you gonna throw a batarang at me?" Ten taunted, coming to a stop as he pressed both of his fists into his hips. "Go on, give it your best shot. I don't feel any pain so that thing might as well be a toy!"

Well, if he wanted it…

Batman threw the shuriken, sending it whirling for Ten's face. Ten just stood there, smirking as the projectile closed the distance between them and collided with his face.

And then it exploded.

Ten cried out as it was his turn to be thrown backwards through the air. Unable to help himself, Batman returned the exact same smirk he had just wiped right off of Ten's face.

And then another energy beam flew in front of his face. Jerking his head around, he saw King firing at him again. Darting towards the youth, the vigilante took refuge behind a crap table, one King began firing energy blasts into over and over. "You can't hide forever!" he shouted.

That was true, so Batman wasn't. Pulling out his grapple again, along with a fist full of shuriken, each one extending out between his fingers. He then fired the grapple up into the air, where it hit an anchor point along the ceiling. Retracting up, Batman shot up into the air, swinging his arm out as he launched his bat-shaped shuriken.

King immediately turned his sights on the shuriken. Moving his hand to the left, he fired a beam before going to his right, firing another. Each beam hit the whirling shuriken, shooting them out of the air. "You're gonna have to do better than that!" he barked.

Apparently, he missed the third shuriken. Instead of it flying towards the youth, it arched upwards, flying through the air towards a neon-lit sign, one flashing POKER over and over. The shuriken flew right for the cables holding the sign up, cutting through the right one and then the left, which dropped the sign down to the floor.

Where it landed right on top of King.

King cried out as he was crushed down to the floor. "You really fell for that," Queen deadpanned snarkily from nearby, looking at the crumpled youth. "If you boys don't pick up your game, that old geezer is gonna beat you."

She then sauntered right up to the fallen King, where she came to a stop. Holding her hands up, she then lifted the sign right off her comrade. Turning her head, she smirked evilly at the Dark Knight. "I think you dropped something," she called out to him. "Here, have it back!"

And then she threw her arms towards the vigilante, which caused the sign to go flying right towards him. Eyes widening, Batman continued to hold tightly to the retraction button, flying higher and higher into the air. Unfortunately, he didn't think he was going to make it above the hurling sign.

It was time to improvise.

Swinging his legs back and then forth, he did it once again before he let go of his grapple on a forward swing. His timing was perfect as his feet touched down right on top of the sign. Pushing off of it, he ran along the length of the sign and jumped off the opposite end, going into a flip before he dropped down to the floor, landing on his feet.

By then, Queen had twisted around, a sour look on her face. "That was pretty good, Grampa," she said, "but I'm—"

Suddenly, a smoke cloud exploded at her feet, causing the young woman to cry out. Apparently, she missed the smoke pellet he had dropped when he had leaped from the flying sign. Pulling out another bat-shaped shuriken, he threw it towards the cloud, where he heard it hit Queen. He knew this because she cried out and then came collapsing out of the cloud, landing with a thud on the floor. Hopefully he had hit her temple and knocked her out.

Suddenly, something wrapped around his legs. Jerking his head down, he saw Jack had made another move, this time, wrapping his arms all around Batman's legs. "I got him, I got him!" he shouted.

Head snapping up, Batman saw Ten running right at him, a fist draw back. "Reeaaaaahhhhhhh!" he roared.

Batman didn't flinch. Instead he readied himself, crouching lower slightly. The moment Ten threw his fist, he leaned to one side, the fist sailing over his shoulder.

And then the vigilante countered. Both of his hands shot up, one grabbing onto Ten's beefy wrist while the other pressed up against the bottom side of his arm, just beside his armpit. Twisting his body around as best as he could, Batman pulled down on Ten's wrist while pushing up on his arm. This caused the youth to be lifted right off the floor. Releasing his hold, Batman sent him flying through the air, the dark-skinned young man crying out as he went into a flip midair. He landed on his back on yet another poker table, breaking it down the middle as it caved inward.

That was when Batman felt his legs be pulled up right form under him. Flying up into the air, he found himself hanging upside down, his eyes searching and finding Jack, who had his stretched arms holding him. Even as his cape hung over his head, Batman held out his right fist and squeezed hard, causing electricity to dance on his brass knuckle.

"Oh, yeah, just try it, Bats," Jack shouted up to him. "Shock me and you'll fall!"

Batman gave him a look. Was this kid an idiot, or what? Did he honestly think he was afraid of falling, or of heights? Bending at the waist, he hauled his upper body up so that he could punch his right fist into Jack's arms.

The youth's reaction was instantaneous. Yelping, Jack's arms loosened and Batman's legs slipped out of his hold, the vigilante dropping to the floor. Twisting his body around, he landed on his feet, a shuriken in hand. Thumb pressing into the projectile's body, he then threw it at Jack. The shuriken flew right into the young man's chest.

Almost like a cartoon, Jack's body absorbed the hit, his chest caving in as his back stretched out far behind him. Clearly he was intending on catapulting the shuriken right back at the vigilante. It would've worked to had it not detonated then, causing Jack's body to suddenly spread out and morph, the youth's eyes widening as his neck stretched out, his arms spasming and curling. His body then closed in on itself and Jack seemed to belch, thick, grey smoke blowing out of his mouth.

A shadow suddenly appeared over Batman, the dark-clad man looking down at the floor before jerking his head upward. Falling towards him was the remains of a poker table, coming in fast. Diving to a side, Batman dodged the table as it crashed down right where he had been standing. Going into a roll, he ended up on his feet, looking in the direction he had last seen Ten.

Unfortunately, he was a second too slow. The large teen had used the table as a distraction as he rushed the Dark Knight. By the time Batman saw him, the youth had planted on foot on the floor and was rearing back on it while raising his other foot. Kicking out with it, his foot rammed right into Batman's chest, the force of the floor sending him flying backwards through the air once more. Much like the first hit, Batman sailed through the air until his back crashed into something, this time being a slot machine. The machine dented and twisted from the impact, the vigilante grunting.

And then he felt something strange. As if it had a mind of its own, parts of the slot machine suddenly ripped right off the machine and looped themselves over his arms, connecting back to the machine on the opposite side of his limbs. Batman quickly realized he was restrained to the slot machine a moment later. Pulling on his arms as hard as he could, he found he couldn't move them.

"Oh, yeah, that's how I like my meat," Ten spoke as he strolled up to him, coming to a stop in front of the vigilante. He was cracking his knuckles again as he stood before him. Behind Ten, King, Queen, and Jack took up position, each one in view of the Dark Knight. Each had menacing smirks on their face.

Ten then pulled a fist back, "Now, I'm gonna be known around the world as the guy that killed the Bat."

* * *

Oh hell naw.

A mechanical arm morphed into a cannon and fired off a sonic blast all in the span of 2.8 seconds. Normally Cyborg took it slower to ensure all the transforming parts ended up where they need to be, but for once he took a page out of his green buddy's book and acted without thinking.

The blast slammed into the side of the tall, dark-skinned guy, shoving him off his feet and sending him flying through the air until he crashed through a wall and disappeared from sight due to dust and debris. Naturally, that attracted all attention towards him.

Having been used to having all eyes on him from football games, Cyborg took it like a champ, his legs apart and his arm still extended forward, a low blue glow radiating from the end of his arm cannon. He schooled his face into rock hard granite, boring his single human eye into the three other costumed...teens? They looked like kids and sounded like them, but you could never tell nowadays.

Beside him, Beast Boy took a defensive stance, his arms held up at the ready as if expecting to burst into action at any moment. "Dude, are we doing this?" the Green Bean asked lowly.

Now was not the time to be asking that since they were already committed.

"The hell are you?" demanded the red robe-wearing, scepter wielding teen. Hmm, by how high an octave that voice was, he had to be a teen. King, wasn't it? At least, that's what Beast Boy had told him.

"Looks like he didn't come alone," sniffed the only girl in the room, sounding as snooty as a Valley Girl.

"Picked up some more scamps, have we?" Okay, that was definitely a man, like a man man. Unlike everyone else, he stuck out with the brown trench coat and the bandages wrapped around his head. Batman glared at the mummy man but said nothing. Internally Cyborg felt a part of him almost fanboy squeal at the sight. "Doesn't matter. I was ready for such a possibility."

"How about you guys step away from the Batman and put your hands behind your heads," Cyborg called out. "I'm more than willing to dish out more."

Mummy man snorted. "Queen, Jack, take care of them."

"Hey, why do we have to deal with the losers?" complained the goatee-wearing teen, Jack from process of elimination.

"Because neither of you are Kings," taunted King.

"Because you are best suited for a man made of metal," Mummy man cut in, glaring at the obvious Queen. "Stop whining and kill him before—"

"Like hell!"

From the hole in the wall, the African American teen tore out of it, charging towards Cyborg like a raging bull. It was way too surprising to see that the sonic blast seemed to have no effect on the guy.

"Ten!" Mummy man snapped. "Don't!"

Somebody was making a mistake, and far be it from the cyborg teen to take what was given to him. He fired another blast at the now-named Ten, the mountain of a teen sidestepping it without pausing his charge. Cyborg fired again, but Ten leapt up into the air, a fist pulled back. Instinctively, the metal teen shieling himself with his unmorphed arm and he head the meaty fist clang against it.

The force of the hit sent him backwards, titanium-based legs digging into and tearing apart the floor. Cyborg kept his balance, though, and lowered his arm to glare at Ten. Ten, however, was attempting to jackhammer him, his two large hands clasped together and swinging. He jerked back to avoid the first swing, repeating for the second. Ten growled and tore his hands apart and began throwing punches.

Now, this lug telegraphed his moves like nobody's business. He was a brawler through and through, doing whatever it took to cause the most damage possible. That meant that Cyborg was able to move out of the way easily, dodging the first two punches and then lunging forward. With his normal, titanium-enforced left arm, he landed a sick hit to Ten's face, causing the guy to stumble back.

However, instead of falling to the floor like a normal person, Ten smirked, wiped his lip with a thumb then went on the attack once again. Okay, looked like someone could take a hit. Cyborg supposed that meant he didn't need to hold back then.

There was the expected flurry of punches, some of which the cyborg teen chose to block and parry instead of flat out dodging. He barely blinked an eye when one parried punch ended up slamming into a fancy looking poker table. The table didn't stand a chance as it was snapped into two large pieces. Splinters and poker chips were sent everywhere, ruining more than one gambler's game.

Raising a leg, Ten kicked one of the table pieces at the cyborg. Holding his arm cannon behind him, Cyborg bore the brunt of the broken piece of furniture, leaning into it and angling his broad shoulder forward, much like he would have done back in his wide receiver days. He grunted as he was pushed back, but he remained none the worse for wear. Thanks to his robot eye, he spotted the other piece of the poker table flying through the air and coming his way. Deciding not to endure this one, he fired off a sonic blast and decimated it.

Ten gave out a roar and was charging again. Aiming his arm cannon, the titanium teen fired another blast. Showing off some acrobatic skills, Ten leapt over the detonating explosion as it struck the floor. A second blast was dodged with a quick move to the left, and then the costumed teen was tackling the cyborg.

Backwards was he pushed, but Cyborg kept his balance. It paid to have mechanical legs sometimes, especially if you could lock them in place in a second's notice.

"Sucks to be you, I know how to take a tackle," he growled as wrapped both his arms around Ten's waist and heaved up With Ten's legs kicking in the air, Cyborg unlocked his legs and leapt up, allowing gravity to bring the two of them back down. He slammed Ten's head into the floor like a piledriver, feeling quite a bit of satisfaction from doing that.

Then Ten's legs wrapped around his neck, the world became a blur, and the next thing he knew, he was staring up at the ceiling.

"Oh, you gonna get it now," Ten mocked, still not looking any worse for wear. This guy could take a lot of punishment, couldn't he?

Rolling onto his front, Cyborg began to push himself up, eyes trained on the card-themed guy. Fine then, time to stop playing around and give it his all. One way or the other, he was going to beat this guy's ass and wipe that smug smirk off his face.

"Just try it," he snarled as he began his thunderous charge.

* * *

Okay, so Cyborg was gonna take that big guy on. Cool, that just meant he had to get the other guy with the goatee and the girl. Didn't really mind the girl because man, she was hot. Had all the right curves in the right places, you know?

"Hmmph. Guess Ten's taking care of it. You get the pipsqueak," Queen commanded, not even giving Beast Boy a second of her time.

He felt insulted.

"And why should I listen to you?" Jack retorted, giving some kind of half smirk thing.

"'Cause I'm a Queen and you're a Jack and I outrank you. Now get to it slimeball. I have more important things to do," she quipped while daintily heading back towards Mummy guy and the Batman.

"Whatever," Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes. At least, Beast Boy thought he rolled his eyes. That domino mask he wore was a lot like Red Robin's; the white part covered the eyes so you couldn't really see the pupils and all.

"Hey, I'm standing right here!" he snapped, resisting the urge to stomp his foot. At least it was carpeted and not cold tile.

"I can see that, twerp," Jack snarked, taking long steps with those long legs that made the green teen feel a little jealous. The guy must not ever struggle to the reach the top shelf at all. "Let's make this quick so I can kill the Batman."

"Not on your life," Beast Boy retorted as he shifted into the form of a green rhino, stampeding his way to Jack. Most people would be trying to get out of the way, because who stays in the way of a charging rhino? You would expect anyone with a survival instinct would.

But not this guy. No, he was still walking his way over with that confident stride and that goatee that really needed a mustache connected to it to complete the classic bad guy look. And when Beast Boy was barely a foot away, already wondering if he should try and put on the brakes, only then did Jack do something different.

That something different was literally expanding and then the shapeshifter's sight was cut off so he could see nothing. While he couldn't see, he could feel something—that was Jack, wasn't it?—wrapping around his whole rhino body and it was both tight and...well, he couldn't think of what the right word was right here. All he knew was that he was starting to feel really claustrophobic right now.

"Go on, give me a rodeo, twerp," Jack challenged, he voice far away and yet all around the green-skinned boy.

Alright, if that's how he wanted it. Attempting an old-fashioned buck, you know, kicking back legs backwards, Beast Boy began throwing himself around, trying to dislodge this asshole—because that's what he was, an asshole. He began running into things, crashing into others, but the asshole wasn't letting go. Okay, seriously, this was getting annoying!

Throughout it all, Jack was jeering, taunting him with things like, "Oh, you almost got me that time. Too bad you suck!" and really that's when Beast Boy stopped listening because he didn't suck, damn it. He was going to show this jerk, even as he ran into something else he could see. He was gonna...he was...gonna…

Why was it getting so hard to breathe?

Oh no, the same thing that was blocking his eyes was blocking his nose! And now he wasn't getting enough air! Aw shit, he had to do something! Anything!

Like a wild animal, he began to thrash around violently, barely aware if he was running into anything. Each move he made, he squirmed, every whip of his head, he fought to find any opening he could. However, his lungs were starting to burn and that set off his panic which caused him to try to take in more air that wasn't coming and—

Beast Boy tripped over his hooved feet, losing enough concentration to revert back to his human form. For a second, whatever was around him pulled away, and there was a little more air which he gasped in. That only lasted a second before that tightness from earlier returned only now it was worse.

The teen had been able to crack open his eyes during that brief second of relief, and what he had saw was weird. It was all white, which didn't make sense because before there was color all over the place. Just because he could change into animals didn't mean he lost his normal, colorful vision. And then right before being wrapped up again, he could have swore that the white seemed to move closer to him.

What that mean? He had absolutely no idea. But he did know he had to get out of here. So, he reacted instinctively, kinda how he did with everything in his life.

He shifted into the largest thing he could, that of a humpback whale. Immediately, his vision cleared and oh so sweet air entered his lungs thanks to an unobstructed blowhole. Ooooh...that was so good.

The white that had been all around him, suffocating him, was gone. As his eyes rolled about, Beast Boy caught sight of Jack, or Jack's head, neck, upper chest. Jack's eyes were bulging behind his domino mask, his cheeks were hollowed out, and his lips looked like they were curling into his mouth. As for the rest of Jack, it was stretched out, wrapping all around the whale, but only covering a fraction of his enlarged body.

Oh, now he got it! This guy was one of those guys that were super stretchy! So how was he gonna fight someone who was like that? Well, first thing was first.

From the size of a whale, he shrunk down to a hummingbird and easily slipped away from Jack's falling body, though that was a bit of a stretch to say—see what he did there. Classic. Anyway, Jack's stretched-out body fluttered down to the floor, slowly and very boring-like.

As if coming to, Jack returned to normal, his head turning this way and that, as if looking for something. "Cheap trick. Where are you? I gotta pound you until you won't know what animal to turn into next!" The goatee-wearing guy was now on his feet though he was a bit wobbly.

Well, Beast Boy couldn't ignore a challenge like that. You could guess where this was going, but just in case you didn't, the green shapeshifter flew until he had himself position right over the guy. Since he could stretch himself, maybe this would be something that would hurt, but not, you know, outright kill him. Would it? Hmm, eh, they'll find out soon enough.

The changeling shifted again, this time an elephant that hovered in the air for a few seconds before gravity remembered that elephants were heavier than air and down he went. Like in a cartoon, Jack noticed the shadow that appeared around him, and like a cartoon character, he looked up.

That was how he came face to face with an elephant's butt.

* * *

The only reason they knew to come here was because they got a call from Victor. The message was short, about something going down at a casino. While Red Robin frowned at that part—a casino in Gotham? When did this happen?—confirmation from Oracle brought them to Amos Fortune and the hole in the roof.

Without a thought, the masked teen leapt into the hole, his cape fanned out to slow his descent. He entered just as a green humpback whale appeared out of nowhere, something thin and white trying to wrap all around it. The whale's sudden appearance crashed into slot machines and poker tables and any other gambling game you could think of, sending it all crashing or breaking into the floor.

This also included a group of people, two of whom were dressed in reds, whites, and blacks, another in a brown trenchcoat with bandages around his head, and the last—oh crap.

Of course Batman would have to be here.

As Red Robin landed, he noticed Cyborg fighting on the far side of the room with another person who was in reds and blacks, the two really going at it. Okay, since that costume theme was used with that guy, that meant the rest also had to be bad guys, right?

"Our friends are engaged in combat," Starfire commented as she floated right next to him. "Should we go to their aid?"

Before he could answer, a noticeably female voice complained, "Oh great. There's more of them." A body picked herself out of the wreckage, clad in a skintight red leotard that exposed quite a bit of cleavage and some of her stomach. Her hair was so blond, it was practically platinum; he suspected it might have been dyed either silver or white, hard to tell from this distance. The only other thing prominent about her were the thigh high white boots that really complimented so very fine legs.

"How many of these creeps are there?" a second voice added to the complaint, a guy with a red robe and scepter. That butt chin and the drawn on mustache really didn't look good.

"It doesn't matter," snapped a third voice, this belonging to the bandaged head man who did not share the same color scheme. "Kill them all, both of you."

Right, like he was about to let that happen. Pulling out a birdarang, he threw it at the red robe guy, the throwing projectile spinning in the air as it closed the distance in three, two…

And it stopped at two. Literally, it was hanging in the air not moving at all.

You could tell the girl was put out when she spoke. "Whatever you say, big boss man."

The birdarang reversed course, and Red Robin found himself ducking under his own weapon. That was certainly a first. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened as the sharp-edged throwing projectile sliced and stuck into a pillar. Wow, that went in deep.

Quickly turning back to the blonde/white-haired girl, the masked teen held his fists in front of himself, trying to come up with a plan of action. Before he could settle on anything, the masked girl raised a hand with a flair and several busted slot machines rose up from the floor, hovering menacingly before shooting right towards him and the others.

"Scatter!" he called out, matching actions to words. Internally, he winced as one of the slot machines slammed viciously in the spot he had been standing in, warping out of shape from the amount of force behind it. Not all of the metal objects struck the floor; some stayed in the air and were making a U-turn for another pass.

This was going to be annoying, wasn't it?

Without warning, a black aura swarmed around each individual slot machine and broke them all apart, the pieces falling harmlessly. To the young vigilante's surprise, he found Raven beside him, an arm extended outwards and her eyes completely black. Wow, nice save there.

"I think you should sit this one out. That, or find someone else," the hooded magic user stated. "It doesn't take a genius to see that she's manipulating magnetic fields. Anything metal will be worthless here."

Yeah. No kidding. Red Robin had noticed how everything she used so far had been metal; your standard telekinetic would have picked up everything. Sucked for him, because much of his equipment had some kind of metal in it, and let's not go anywhere near his cape. He barely understood all that stuff that went into making it; all he cared was that it worked.

The magnet girl, however, seemed to have heard Raven and made her disapproval known. "It doesn't matter how many I have to face. Out of this lot, I am the most powerful. Taking two of you on at the same time will be child's play. Be grateful, you face a Queen."

And she had an ego, nice. It was too bad that bark had a bite to it. Getting the feeling that Queen was not just her giving herself a title, but may have been the name she used, Queen began pulling out all the coins from every machine. It was a gambler's wet dream seeing so many of the casino tokens flying about. Then the coins began to press up against one another, forming multiple floating metal balls. Then the balls grew some wicked points to them until they were all floating spikes.

With a smirk, Queen launched the metal fury at them.

Raven was quick to act, forming a black barrier around them. The metal spikes slammed into and splattered, quickly covering the barrier until the pair were enclosed in darkness. Red Robin barely had time to try and turn on his night vision when the hooded girl beside him said, "Be ready to move."

He felt more than saw the increase of magical power, and then the metal all around them cracked and shattered. Beams of black magic carved through their prison, and Red Robin took to following his teammate's request, quickly running out.

Meanwhile, Raven took hold of anything her magic would grab until, primarily wreckage from the hole in the ceiling and the mess caused by Beast Boy turning into a whale. Lifting the assortment of rubble, tables, and broken slot machines, the sorceress retaliated with her own barrage.

Queen was ready; she hadn't thrown all her spikes, keeping a few near her. The spikes flattened themselves into discs, and took up a hexagonal formation in front of her. Then they began to move, Raven's assaulting weapons striking against each disc.

Now it was plain to see what they were: shields. That they were moving made it easier to block anything coming Queen's way. Figuring this out, Raven picked up more objects from the floor, even tearing up some of the horizontal surface. Maneuvering them about in the air, she rushed her makeshift projectiles from all directions, their destination being the metal-wielding female.

Encircling herself with her discs, Queen continued to block with each. Once the last of Raven's barrage was blocked, the discs rotated until they were parallel with the floor. Immediately they began spinning, their thin edges becoming jagged until they resembled buzzsaws. One after another, they zoomed straight at the cloaked girl, leaving a whirring sound in their wake.

Raven levitated herself, rising high above the saws. Predictably, the whirling discs followed after her, honing in on her new, moving location. The magic user fired off a blast of black magic, knocking one of the projectiles away and then having to stop as one buzzed close to her throat. Whatever formation they had started in had been broken up and now they were moving independently of one another.

Red Robin gritted his teeth as he watched them. He reached for his belt, only to pause. What could he pull out that would possibly prove effective here? He wasn't about to leave Raven to fight this girl by herself, but what could he do? Wait.

While birdarangs weren't useful here, this might prove more effective. Removing a small capsule, he eyed it critically before he tightened his hand around it. Making a quick calculation in his head, he stood up to his full height and threw it, watching with satisfaction as the capsule landed a couple feet in front of Queen.

A cloud of smoke exploded from the capsule, immediately covering Queen and blocking her from sight. The red, black, and white dressed girl even gave out a cry of surprise. Though still spinning, the buzzsaws slowed down a bit, giving Raven enough time to break away from their assault.

Running towards her, Red Robin pulled out a birdarang and held it in front of him. "Can you do something about this?" he called out, making up a plan on the fly. He had noticed earlier how Queen hadn't stopped or snatched away any of the broken slot machines Raven had used earlier and it was giving him an idea.

Giving a quick look, the hooded girl nodded and suddenly the birdarang was covered in a black aura. Skidding to a halt, Red Robin twisted his torso and flung the birdarang in Queen's direction, By then the smoke was dissipating, the angered opponent coughing and looking up. Spotting the throwing projectile, she thrust an arm in front of her, trying to stop the weapon like she had earlier.

And she kept trying right up until the point where it struck her in the forehead and knocked her back onto her ass.

"That worked," Raven commented, speaking like she was talking about the weather.

"And that's how we're going to take her down," Red Robin stated as he pulled out two more birdarangs, these one's with explosives in them. "Let's do this."

* * *

No sooner had Starfire avoided the flying metal objects that she twisted about to evade the bolt of energy that cut right in front of her trajectory. Bringing her momentum to an abrupt end, the Tamaranian quickly identified the source of the attack.

It was the human male in the red robe with the jeweled specter. He possessed a smug smirk on his face that the alien exile felt a sudden desire to remove.

"Count yourself lucky, toots. You face a King," the human boasted.

"Do not kings on this planet wear metal, pointy hats that are gaudily designed with precious stones?" she...quipped? Was that the proper terminology?

The pretend king blinked blankly at her before physically shaking his head. "You speak way too much for a girl. I can think of a lot more things to use your mouth for."

"I prefer using it for speech." Ah, that had to be a quip. "That, and eating. Now surrender yourself before I inflict grievous bodily harm to you."

"Inflict grievous body...just eat this!" The human stumbled over his words, but that did not make him any less deadly. Aiming one of his hands at her, the human file created and fired a short beam of energy that sliced through the air and in her direction.

The Tamaranian easily moved out of the way, remaining hovering in the air. Now knowing how this human used his unique ability, she could begin her counterattack. It would have to wait as several more blasts were fired off.

Going higher after dodging to her left and right several times, Starfire summoned her life energy into her right hand, and once it had the right concentration, she returned fire. She deliberately aimed towards the male's feet, doing her best not to kill the living being. The self-proclaimed king cried out as the resulting detonation threw him off his feet.

"I too know how to use my life essence as deadly projectiles. I advise that you reconsider my ultimatum." Yes, any logic-based organism should see her reasoning and doubt the current course of action.

The scepter-wielding human made a snarl and rapid-fired several more blasts.

Obviously, this human was not logic-based.

Going into evasive maneuvers, Starfire simultaneously returned fire, to keep the human on his heels. Yes, that was the appropriate phrasing, wasn't it? Multiple star bolts and energy blasts collided with one another and detonated, as expected. With a growl, the royalty-claiming human changed tactics and fired a continuous blast of energy.

Darting through the air, she was chased by the continuous energy attacked. Above and behind her, the ceiling collapsed in a trail of destruction as the energy beam was powerful enough to cut through the flimsy material. Though flimsy, she was sure that it was heavy, what with the response from Beast Boy when some of it landed on him and the opponent he faced.

Forming another bolt, she fired it at the energy-blasting human and ended the assault following her. The human had stopped with his attack and sprinted out of the way. Seeing this as an opportunity, Starfire gave chase in the hopes of spinning the table.

As she filled both hands with more of her life energy, she figured that perhaps she would try to quicken it up.

* * *

By process of elimination, Wonder Girl could see that everyone here had a dance partner but herself. She could see Cyborg taking on a guy as big as himself and somehow the other guy was holding his own. The Green Bean was struggling with someone who was way too flexible for his own good and stretchy to boot. That one was hard to call who was winning. Then there was Red and Raven double teaming that one chick who had a way with levitating things. Looked like they had their hands full, somehow. Last but not least, Starfire had that creep with the stick, and she was sorely tempted to help with that one because she did not like the pet names he tried to give her.

It was a good thing they went over Starfire's head. Still, she figured that if she had to help anyone, it would have to be the shapeshifter, if only because that looked like it could be anyone's game. That, and have two people who could change the shape of their bodies fighting it out would make for a way too long fight.

Then she spotted movement from some wreckage and found a man with bandages wrapped around his head. The way his teeth clenched together and his eyes not looking the least bit friendly told the blonde that this was not a nice guy. Maybe she had a dance partner after all.

Stalking her way over to the man in the tacky trench coat, Wonder Girl—Christ, she could not believe she was using that name—took up a stance and called out, "Looks like it's between me and you, pal."

Slowly, the bandage-faced man looked towards her and showed no sign of being scared or even impressed. To her anger, the man snorted. "You're not worth my time."

Okay, that was a first. Usually when she met someone new or messed up their shit, they wanted a fight. Not once had she ever been dismissed so casually, it was insulting.

"Then you'll have to pencil me in because I'm about to knock the piss out of you," she retorted, more than ready for a fight.

Now he was giving her a look, but she could tell it was contemptuous even underneath all those bandages. A hand slipped to his belt—what were the odds he had a beltful of toys like Red?—and pulled out what looked like a small canister.

As he threw it at her, the mummy man stated, "Not on your best day."

She was all ready to take this thing head-on, but then someone tackled her from the side right before the canister revealed itself to be a high-powered grenade that had a very big boom to it. Just by the sound alone, it made the armor-wearing girl wonder if perhaps she had almost bit off more than she could chew. None of that seemed to matter as she found herself on her back, underneath another man, this one in all black and...oh wow.

Before, she hadn't really understood why the moron duo geeked out so much, but with the Batman over her and putting himself between her and the tacky bandage guy, Wonder Girl felt that maybe she was starting to get it.

"Ever the knight, aren't you?" Mummy man quipped. "So where'd you dig these ones up? Do you have a base where you train these ones? Someone to augment your forces in the city?"

"They're not part of this," Batman hissed back. "Leave them out of this."

"I don't know, I might have to come up with something special, just for them," Mummy man taunted back.

"This is between you and me. Weren't you the one who said we were going to end this here?" the black and chic vigilante fired back.

"And you of all people should have known it wasn't going to be that easy." Pulling out something else from his belt, Mummy man—oh God, what was that sound! Whatever it was, it was loud and was stabbing into her ear drums!

And somehow, _somehow_, she could hear the bandage-face man call out, "Playtime's over! We're out of here!"

What happened next, Wonder Girl did not know because the sound intensified and then abruptly stopped. As she got her bearings back, she found that the baddies they had been fighting were all gone, Batman was further away, as if he had given chase but had lost them, and the place around them looked like it was falling apart.

That last part was the least surprising part. Collateral damage like this was becoming alarmingly normal.

Then Batman turned his attention on them. "All of you. Outside. Now."

* * *

Author's Note: Fun fact, there's a DC character called Amos Fortune who happened to found a little known group called the Royal Flush Gang. Was a bit of foreshadowing for this particular group of wild cards, and no one seemed to pick up on it. I will confirm that yes, this version of the Gang is the one featured in the Justice League episode Wild Cards, where the Joker planted a bomb on the Las Vegas strip and televised it. Heck, there was even a casino in that episode that was called Amos Fortune Casino. Yay, fun trivia all around.


	8. Roulette

Roulette

Batman eyed the group of teens.

They were definitely an odd-looking bunch. There was a thin, reedy kid with green skin with the look of an excitable puppy on his face. He was currently being reined in a bit by a girl cloaked in a blue...well, cloak. She was quite standoffish in comparison to the green-skinned teen, but there was a malevolence in the look she aimed at her friend.

Then there was the blonde teen who looked as if she belonged on one of those teen idol magazines. She definitely had an air of confidence about her along with the looks. However, she had on some sort of Amazonian armor, how she found it he had no clue. He recognized the origin of it the moment he had seen it.

Then there was the orange-skinned Starfire. She looked no different than she had in the future, save for her dress. There was a startling lack of thought if the expression on her face was any indication. However, he knew she had enough power to take on the Justice League if she so wished. While he hadn't spoken to her much in the future, whatever cursory knowledge he had obtained seemed to match with her current mannerism.

Of course, that's when his attention slid over to Cyborg. He was also someone from the future; however, unlike Starfire, he seemed...different.

_"Cat got your tongue?" Cyborg taunted then. "That's alright; you're lucky the High Councilor wants you taken in alive, though he won't mind dead if there's no other choice. So I'll leave it to you: come quietly, or I'm gonna have to put the beat down on you."_

For one, he wasn't nearly as arrogant as he had been in El Paso. Nor was he as huge as he had been either. In fact, while he was tall, he was nearly as tall as him, coming to within an inch of Batman's own height. He wasn't as bulky either, instead hiding his body underneath a hoodie.

And perhaps as unnerving was the same excitement the green kid had was also on his face.

Which then brought him to Red Robin.

Unlike the others, whether their presentation of excitement, aloofness, or blinding happiness, Red Robin seemed to be trying to shrink in on himself, hiding himself from the vigilante's gaze. This, of course, didn't work for him.

Looking right at the youth, he asked, "What are you still doing in Gotham?"

Red Robin flinched from his words. "A-actually, we were just about to leave. We..."

_Just about? _ The look on Batman's face hardened, which caused the teen to trail off. "You of all people know just what one mistake can lead to," he reprimanded. "The longer you're here, the more danger you put yourself and your family in. I didn't think I had to tell you that twice."

"It's a good thing we did stay," the blonde girl spoke up then, taking a step to place herself just in front of Red Robin, yet to one side. "You were in a bad spot against those weird card people, in case you hadn't noticed."

Batman tilted his head slightly to the girl and stared at her. Whatever defiant look she had on her face slowly morphed into one of uncertainty. In fact, her very body language went from aggressive to passive with every passing second. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I...I'm…" she stuttered before he noticed another emotion filled her body. It wasn't unease so much as it seemed resigned. An odd feeling to present to be sure. "Wonder Girl," she grumbled out.

"Oh! Are we giving the names of code now?" Starfire asked pleasantly. She then strode forward, coming to a stop right in front of him and held her hand up. It looked as if she were waiting for a high-five from him. "My name of code is Starfire, Mr. Man of Bats. I have heard many good things about you from my fellow companions."

Well, Starfire definitely hadn't changed. Something about that was pleasing to him. "It's a pleasure," he returned her greeting.

"Did you hear that?" the green kid whispered to Cyborg, bumping his elbow into the cybernetic teen's stomach. "He just acknowledged Star. _He actually acknowledged her."_

"I know, dawg," Cyborg hissed back, his excitement palpable.

This, of course, drew Starfire's attention. "And these two friends of mine have names of code as well. The taller one calls himself Cyborg and the shorter one has chosen to be called Beast Boy."

"Hey! I'm not that short, Star!" Beast Boy protested.

"You're the shortest one here, Grass Stain," Cyborg retorted.

"Shut it in front of the Bat, dude!"

"Please, ignore these two idiots," the cloak-wearing girl spoke then. "If you don't, they'll be at it all night."

"And you are?" Batman inquired.

"You may call me Raven, if you wish."

Hmmm, so this was Raven. He had heard some mentionings of her from the Bat-Underground. He'd have to do some research on her to familiarize himself, since she hadn't been around during the coup.

"And that is everyone, so now that introductions are out of the way, we'll just be leaving," Red Robin was quick to say.

"We are leaving?" Starfire asked as she turned her head to look at the teen vigilante. Incredibly, she still held her hand up. "Are we not doing the signs of hand clapping as well?"

"Star, I think you mean to do a handshake. Right now, you're trying to high-five Batman instead."

Starfire glanced to her hand and then back at Red Robin. "What are the five I am performing and how high do they have to be?"

Everyone—Batman included—gave the Tamaranian a stare. The Dark Knight had met his share of airheaded models and actresses, but this girl was in a league all her own. Had she been this way in the future? He wasn't really sure the more he thought about it. Slowly, she lowered her hand to her side, but did not look the least bit taken back from their collective look. "Or am I performing it wrong?" she asked.

Red Robin pressed his hand into the side of his face. "I just wanted to leave Gotham. Is that too much to ask for?" he said more to himself.

Which returned Batman's attention to him. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"We...uhh...have a boat. At the docks. It's ready to go once we get there."

Batman narrowed his eyes. "The docks are halfway across town. What are you doing here?"

"Well...you see...a couple of us decided to...do some sight-seeing." At this, Red Robin shot a look at Cyborg and Beast Boy, one that was clearly not fond of them at the moment. "The rest of us had to track them down so we could leave."

"Then I suggest you do just that. I want you out of Gotham before daybreak." He then gave a look to the entire group, sweeping his head from right to left to make sure they all saw just how serious he was. He didn't want to have to escort them to docks, but if that's what it took, then so be it. "No more straggling. No more side-trips. Get back to Jump City, or you won't like the way _I'll_ send you back there."

Red Robin meekly nodded his acceptance. However, Wonder Girl wasn't quite done. "Now hold on. You may think you're big and bad, but you were handedly getting your butt kicked when we showed up. I think we deserve some answers as to what's going on. Like who that mummy guy was."

"He's none of your concern," the vigilante shot back, a low growl in his voice. It was enough to surprise the blonde girl as she flinched back from his tone. "The sooner you leave Gotham, the better. He's not a man you can mess with and just walk away. I don't want any of you going near him; the consequences will be too horrific for all of you. Do you understand?"

Upon seeing a few meek nods, he was satisfied he had gotten his message across to them. Spinning around, Batman made to leave, walking away from the group of teens.

He didn't get far. "Umm...Mr. Batman? Sir?" Stopping, Batman turned his head around and found Beast Boy and Cyborg had stepped forward, looking at him expectantly. What did they want now?

And then the green-skinned boy spoke.

"Can we have your autograph?"

* * *

The good thing about Gotham was that if you wanted to learn detective work, it gave you plenty of course work.

The scene was another crime scene. The place was at the mouth of an alleyway, the victim lying on the sidewalk with blood pooling out from beneath them. The police hadn't arrived yet, likely because it hadn't been called in yet.

The four members of the Birds of Prey stood in the alleyway, each one watching Batgirl as she knelt next to the body, staring at it. An anonymous call from them would be put in once they were done with the lesson, but the difference of a few minutes wouldn't hurt anything.

"This man was killed with a gun," Batgirl declared.

"How do you know that?" Huntress quizzed.

The young girl held a hand over the body and pointed a finger at their chest. "The bullet holes," she replied bluntly.

Huntress nodded. "What else can you tell me?"

Batgirl lowered her hand and looked the victim up from head to foot. She then looked to the alleyway where the Birds stood. "He was facing the alley. The shooter was there."

Collectively, the Birds looked at their feet, making sure they weren't standing in some form of evidence before returning their sights to the young vigilante. "Many shots were fired," the girl murmured as she stared intently towards them. It wasn't that she was staring at them so much as she was trying to imagine the scene as it was unfolding.

"Motive?" Huntress pressed.

That snapped Batgirl out of her daze. She shook her head. "Don't know."

Huntress glanced to the victim. It was a nondescript male, middle aged, and definitely indulged in an unhealthy diet of fast food and beer. He didn't look like a gang member, or someone involved in espionage. However, she did notice one of his wrists and the band of pale skin.

"Possible robbery?" she prompted.

Batgirl looked down at the corpse. "Maybe," she acknowledged. "Why do you think that?"

"He has a missing watch if that lovely band of pale skin at his wrist is any indication."

Huntress watched Batgirl's head hilt down and stare right at the offending wrist. Almost absently, the girl reached down and touched the skin, something that met with the purple-clad woman's disapproval. You never touched a body unless you were certain you wouldn't leave prints, or destroy them. She knew Batgirl wasn't at that stage of learning to be so cavalier with a body.

However, her head jerked up. "Body is still warm," she announced before looking to the Birds. "Very warm. This happened very recently."

"Which means the perp is probably somewhere close by, maybe even a few blocks away," Black Canary spoke before glancing to her fellow Birds. "We might be able to catch this guy red-handed. Everyone spread out and search."

"For who?" Manhunter questioned. "We don't know what the perp looks like, nor do we know if this was actually a robbery. Just because he doesn't have a watch on doesn't mean he had it stolen. He could've left it at home on accident."

That...was an excellent point, actually. Two of them in fact. They clearly needed more info. "What else do you see about the scene?" Huntress questioned the younger vigilante.

However, instead of going back to her course work, Batgirl seemed to be looking right at them. It was a little unnerving considering her mask looked as if she were pieced together, what with the mouth portion being sewed up. "There's something behind you," she said.

Frowning, Huntress turned her head around. At first, all she saw was the alleyway, nothing too thrilling. But then she saw something move and, boy, did that stick out.

It was small, crawling over the ground. Incredibly, it was blue and not a subtle shade of blue either. It was bright and stuck out like a sore thumb. Focusing on it, the dark-haired woman picked out a large tail, several legs, and pincer like hands.

Was...was that a blue scorpion?

"Now that's just strange," Manhunter remarked as she stared at it as well. Her eyes darted to one side. "There's another one on the wall."

Looking, Huntress indeed saw a second blue scorpion crawling down the side of the building. Actually, there were two of them. That made three total. "Do you think this is some sort of new species?"

Taking a step forward, Huntress moved to the one crawling on the ground, stopping close to it. She would have knelt down to examine it further, but it suddenly lashed out with its tail, causing her to hop back a step. "Whoa! They're aggressive."

"Get out of there."

Turning her head around, Huntress saw Batgirl had moved right up to the alley's mouth. "Get out of there now," she repeated insistently.

Whatever her reasoning, the purple-clad woman didn't find out. That was mostly because right then, the brick wall next to her began to rattle. Yes, you heard her right, rattle. As if the bricks began to shake, breaking up the mortar between them and the bricks clashing against each other.

And then a portion of the wall broke a part and a flood of blue scorpions came pouring out. "Holy shit!" Huntress exclaimed as she backpedaled as fast as she could to the rest of the Birds.

It was an incredible sight. The scorpions either crawled down the wall, or fell to the ground, where they promptly began heading right for the women.

"There's more!" Batgirl cried out. Whipping her head around, Huntress stared in disbelief as she saw more scorpions appearing, some walking around the corner of the alley. Others were actually emerging out from underneath the victim's body.

What the hell was going on here?"

"I don't know what these things are," Manhunter spoke as she pulled out her bo staff, "but I think it's time we started doing some extermination."

* * *

It had started as a normal search and locate, trying to do a favor for Red Robin, but nothing to write home about. Nightwing was letting the girls take point, but that had less to do with encouraging autonomy with them and more with the fact that he was distracted. The thoughts he had been having about the girls' future as vigilante had not left him, nor had the consequences of Jason's short-lived run abandoned him.

Seeing the girls in action, almost made an afterimage of Jason, or Red Hood as he had ended up calling himself, appear and increase his uncertainty about the state of things. It wouldn't take much to get these girls hurt, or worse.

With all the concern for the girls' well-being, it meant that he had less for himself. Why bring this up? Well, perhaps that had to do with something big striking him from the side and off the rooftop he went. They were in a residential neighborhood, and the young man found himself crashing through a window and into a family's living room.

Picking himself up, Nightwing wondered what the hell happened and if either Spoiler or Bluebird had gotten the number off of what had hit him. Pausing, he looked up and found a family of four staring at him from a small dining table, in the middle of eating dinner. This was very awkward, to say the least.

Grimacing, he said, "Sorry about that." Scrambling back onto his feet, he rushed back out the broken window, firing a grapple so that he could get back to the rooftop he had been knocked off of in the first place. Retracting the line, he was able to—hmm, that sounded like fighting up there. Oh great, someone had picked a fight with them. That seemed...really random.

Pulling himself back up onto the roof, he narrowed his eyes at the sight he found. The first thing he spotted was the attacker, and that was not for lack of trying. He—he was assuming it was a he—was huge and all in brown with a weird helmet that had tubes sticking out of it.

Why was he thinking deep sea diving all of a sudden?

That question was irrelevant; what was was that the girls were busy fighting this guy. A large fist clad in a brown glove rose up then rocketed down at Spoiler, the girl nimbly slipping out of the way while the fist smashed through into the gravel covered rooftop. While the helmeted guy was pulling back his arm, Spoiler darted in, through jab after jab into the guy's side though they seemed to have little effect.

The large man's outstretched arm curled, then lashed out as he batted the hooded and caped girl away. To her credit, Spoiler arched her back and went with the blow, her legs pushing against the floor. She went into a flip, her hands stomping down so that the flip became a handstand. Then she was back onto her feet, her cape falling behind her, and the girl retaining her balance.

As this happened, Bluebird fired off a shot from her taser rifle. Obviously, she had held back until her teammate had gotten some distance between her and their attacker. Much to Nightwing's surprise, the bolt of electricity, when it collided with the helmet-wearing man, seemed to be absorbed into his suit and the guy showed no signs of being tased or even fazed.

Then it hit him; that suit had to be insulated, enough that Bluebird's taser rifle would have little to no effect against him.

The helmeted head slowly turned towards Bluebird soon followed by the rest of the large body. Then the large man took one step towards the blue-haired vigilante, followed by a second step, then a third. Spoiler rushed after him, attempting to tackle him from behind. While she did run into him, her arms attempted to wrap around his waist and failed.

However, it did serve as enough of a distraction for the mysterious attacker. He stopped in his approach and began to reach for Spoiler. Bluebird, meanwhile, tucked away her taser rifle and went on the offensive. Before the helmet-wearing man could grab her teammate, Bluebird swung a leg and landed a kick into the man's stomach. Like Spoiler's jabs from before, it had little effect on him.

The helmeted man reacted quickly, for once, a large hand clamping down on Bluebird's head and picking her up. The girl gripped at the thick wrist the hand was connected to, kicking out with her legs, trying to hit anything she could. Spoiler, meanwhile, had removed one of her arms so that she could begin punching the man in his side.

What was that suit made out of? It didn't seem like anything the girls were doing had an effect on him and Nightwing knew he had trained those girls to be better than good enough. Guess like he was going to need to intervene.

Bursting into a run, the vigilante rushed to the rescue. Jumping as high as he could, he collided with the large man's upper back, his hands wrapping around the two tubes that extended out from the back of the helmet and connected with a large oxygen tank. With all his strength, he pulled back and was rewarded with the helmeted man jerking back.

Releasing one of the tubes, Nightwing yanked out an escrima and began drumming it on top of the helmet. "Hey big guy! Why don't you pick on someone your own size!"

Swinging his arm, the hulk of a deep sea diver threw Bluebird away and attempted to reach for the masked man. Nightwing leaned back as far as he could, planting a foot right in the middle of the man's back, just above the air tank. Gloved fingers swiped at him but was unable to get any purchased on the lithe, young man.

Then Spoiler got the bright idea to trip the man up. She sank down to the rooftop, slipping her arms away from the thick waist and put them to better use by pushing against a tree trunk of a leg. This was enough to compromise the man's balance and there was a distinct lack of someone yelling "timber!" as he fell. Nightwing leaped off the helmeted man with ease, completing a simple flip before landing on his feet.

Whipping out his other escrima, he held them at the ready, electricity turned off for the time being. This fight was only getting started.

The helmeted man rolled onto his front with a grunt, pushing himself up and revealing the green lens that he had for eyes. Other than that, there was no other sound coming from the brute.

Cockily, Nightwing said challengingly, "Ready when you are."

He was fast, or at least faster than what his large frame gave away. Nightwing dodged the meaty fist that attempted to knock his head off, moving around the wall of brown while swinging his escrima into any part of the large body he could. He ducked under the back swing and stabbed the end of one escrima into an open armpit. No dice as the guy barely gave any sign he was affected. The suit must be padded or something.

Jerking back, he narrowly dodged that fist again as it came from above, the blow impacting the floor beneath them. Then the helmeted man charged forward, forcing Nightwing to awkwardly leapfrog him. The weird-looking attacker tried to slow himself down but was unable to in time to stop himself from running into a chimney top, cracking the brick and mortar.

Suddenly, several birdarangs flew past Nightwing and pierced into the man's suit, pinning him against the chimney. A quick look over his shoulder revealed Spoiler to be the actor for that, one of her hands in the middle of retrieving another throwing projectile.

Turning his attention back to the large man, he called out, "You look a bit held up. Ready to call it quits yet?"

"King Kraken will not be embarrassed by amateurs," the helmeted man snarled, his voice altered with a metallic tint to it thanks to that helmet.

"King Kraken? Is that the best you could come up with?" And there was Bluebird exercising her sass.

Kraken didn't take too kindly to the insult. However, instead of getting mad, the brute groaned and then broke off the chimney top that he was pinned to. With more effort, he was able to raise it about his head, the birdarangs tearing through his outfit.

Oh wow, hadn't seen a feat of strength like that since Bane.

"This isn't over," Kraken said ominously as he threw the chimney in their direction, and by their, he meant himself and Spoiler. Spinning on his heel, he leapt at his younger partner and tackled her to the rooftop, the chimney flying overhead and smashing down only a couple feet from where they laid.

"Holy shit! You guys alright!" Bluebird called out as she ran to their side.

"Where is he?!" Nightwing demanded. What was that girl doing? She needed to keep an eye on…

"I know, I know, but I kept my eye on the chimney and next thing I know, he's gone," Bluebird hastily explained as she reached their side.

She took her eyes off him. Now that was a rookie move if he ever heard one. But he couldn't fully blame her for that; he needed to have taught her not to take her eyes off the person trying to kill you. The maniac could have gone after her while she had been distracted.

"Who was that guy?" Spoiler wondered as she picked herself up, scanning their surroundings. "He just came out of nowhere and attacked us. Didn't say anything like he was going to kill us, just knocked you away and came after us."

Doing his own look over of the area, Nightwing did his best to see if he could spot their attacker. It was like the guy had vanished into thin air once he had looked away. It bugged him to think there was someone else out there using Batman schtick and disappearing like that.

"I don't know," he said after a moment, his voice hardening. "But I'm gonna find out."

* * *

With one last stomp, the last scorpion was crushed. Huntress wasn't proud that stomp belonged to her since the last several minutes wasn't anything to be proud of.

The hoard of blue scorpions had been endless at first. So many had shown up they had been trapped in the alleyway from all sides. Each woman had done what they needed to do, including Batgirl's explosive batarangs, Katana spinning her sword in front of her like a plane propeller, and Manhunter had even unleashed the firepower in her bow staff.

That would explain some of the large holes in the walls of the buildings surrounding them.

While the brunette vigilante had purposely fired at the spots where the scorpions were emerging, the blasts had blown out the walls, leaving gaping holes in them. On the positive, he ended whatever nest these little blue monstrosities came from.

"You know, when I moved to Gotham, I never thought I'd be in the business of bug extermination," Manhunter quipped as she stared at her handiwork, holding her staff next to her with one end planted on the ground. "You can imagine my surprise."

"Where did they all come from?" Katana questioned as she looked at the ones she had sliced and diced. Huntress couldn't help but frown at the wreckage. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have been bugged by the pieces of minced scorpions, but there was just something wrong about this. She had to nod to her time with Batman for this; he would've noticed this and things even more obscure than she had thought possible.

It took her a few moments before she could put her finger on it. There wasn't any blood. Yes, there were body parts all over the place, but where was the blood? Scorpions did have blood, right? And guts. Where was the guts?

"Hey, guys, you might want to look at this," Black Canary called out. Turning around, the three women found the blonde vigilante and Batgirl kneeling on the ground towards the other end of the alley. As one, they marched over to them and looked over their shoulders.

In front of the two was a relatively whole scorpion, though cut in half and an arm was missing. More importantly, they could see into either half of the scorpion and there was a distinct lack of organs and bodily fluids.

Instead, it was all mechanical. There were gears and wires and circuit boards. Were these robotic scorpions? Why? Who would ever want to make small, robotic scorpions? That was just a waste of resources and technical know-how.

"The hell is going on?" Huntress demanded as she glared at the mechanical thing.

"We need to get this analyzed," Batgirl said softly as she began to reach down and gather up the pieces. "Figure out what this is exactly."

That wasn't a bad idea at all. There was just one problem. "And how are you going to analyze it?" the purple-clad woman asked.

"With the equipment at the Birdcage," the younger girl replied simply.

The rest of the Birds looked to each other. "Uhh, with what equipment?" Black Canary inquired gently.

Batgirl looked to the blonde woman and then to the standing Birds. Clearly, that question caught her off guard. "You do not have equipment?"

All of them shook their heads in the negative, though it was Huntress that actually answered her. "Afraid not. The Birds of Prey don't normally run into these kind of things. A mugging, a robbery, corporate espionage—sure. An army of scorpion robots—not until now."

"Then...how do we look into this?"

Huntress shrugged her shoulders. "Beats me. Batman was the only one I knew who…"

She trailed off. At the mention of her father figure, the young girl stiffened. Clearly she didn't like the idea of crawling back to daddy for help, not that the dark-haired woman could blame her. She had been the same way when she separated herself from the Bertinelli crime family. However, there was no better resource than the man that had inspired and spawned Gotham's vigilante community.

And then Batgirl said something she hadn't expected her to say. "Then I will find a way to figure this out," she declared, standing up with the remains of the scorpion cradled in her hands. Without waiting for any of the Birds to respond, she spun around and walked off, vanishing around a corner of the alleyway.

"Well, that's ambitious," Black Canary remarked as she stood up on her feet. "Where do you think she's going to go?"

"Either she's going to find herself a lab to study that thing," Manhunter replied, "or she's going to try and sneak out some of Batman's equipment, whatever that is, and figure it out herself. Or just turn it over to him."

"She'll be back when she come up with an answer," Huntress spoke. "In the meantime, we'll need to work another angle of this: namely, who decided to attack us with blue robots and why."

* * *

He had never been good with kids. Kids were annoying. Ones with superpowers brought out the worst in their generation. Once they were back at base, the Royal Flush Gang would no longer be his problem.

With quick, sure steps, Hush entered the large room, ignoring the constant activity from all the hired help. He was used to doing so, a skill developed from his time as the CEO of Elliot Pharmaceuticals. Unlike the defunct corporation, this was a more underhanded enterprise.

Unlike his former job, this time he was in the employ of someone else, a certain nondescript man who unfortunately held all the cards right now, and not just a Royal Flush. Unremarkable brown eyes gazed at his approach, and humorless lips curled upward in greeting. "You've returned. How did tonight's act play out?"

"Hurt," the bandage-faced man grunted as he passed by the business casual-dressed man, grabbing one of the chairs at the large table that had been painstakingly moved in here and slumping in it. Also seated was a slight girl in a black and white leotard and the blankest facial expression ever seen. One tended to look away from eyes that were piercing yet empty at the same time, noticing the headband that held back her hair and the club symbol attached to it. Taking a moment to compose himself, and averting his gaze from the girl, Hush answered, "Everything went according to plan. Batman is still in the dark about what's happening and still vulnerable. However, true to my predictions, we had a complication arise."

"That does not inspire confidence," Hurt commented, staying where he was though his welcoming expression had become painfully blank. "What happened?"

"A bunch of brats crashed the party. One of them is a member, or more like former member, of this city's league of vigilantes. He's found his own club of superpowered brats and brought them along with him. They were able to counter the Royal Flush Gang and hold them off. How long they would have lasted is debatable; could they have come out on top, who knows."

"You don't seem broken up about either possibility," Hurt commented. Pausing, Hurt looked away from Hush and towards a ruckus that was approaching them.

Two of the uniquely dressed hired help were dragging what looked like a hiker of sorts, though they were nowhere near a mountain. This hiker was dressed warmly, carried a backpack, and looked scared shitless, as he should be. What could have brought a sap like him into this den of snakes?

"We found him poking around inside," one of the men holding the civilian reported. "He was filming," he added, holding a camcorder up for inspection.

Hush eyed this intruder with a curious eye. It looked like some nobody, yet they had stumbled into this little cabal so easily. A screw up like this held the potential to set everything back; it was obvious what would have to be done to maintain secrecy. However, this wasn't his party, so what would the host do?

Hurt stood before the frightened man, nothing of his thoughts given away through his stance. To be honest, Hush found it somewhat difficult to get a read on this man.

"Tell me, what brings you here of all places? Why did you come here?" The questions were asked harshly, Hurt's tone similar to that of a disciplinarian.

"I...I-I...Look man, I was j-just looking a-a-around!" the scared man confessed. "I-I explore. You know? Urban exploring? I'm just getting some footage for my channel, I didn't mean… I just… I just want to go home."

Urban exploring? Ah, this man was one of those urban explorers, people who deliberately entered off limit or abandoned areas for the sole purpose of exploration. Some recorded their little adventures and uploaded it to the internet. With this in mind, it made sense why this man was poking around. He thought that this place was abandoned, a testament to how well the Black Glove kept things quiet.

Eventually, Hurt began speaking in a clinical tone, one that the former surgeon and CEO recognized as the kind that doctors used when explaining diagnosis to patients. "He looks very anxious, depressed even. Definitely a history of mental illness. I would hazard to guess that suicide runs in the family." Then, raising his voice, he ordered, "Have a suicide note written out, make sure everything is plausible and have it all done within the hour. I want the body discovered in two."

"Wait man! No! No! No, no, no, no!" the man wailed as he was dragged off. His screams got louder as he was removed from the room, his voice echoing down the hallway. Hush could only imagine what this urban explorer's fate would be. Slashed wrists? Drug overdose? Hanging? So many choices, but whatever was chosen, it would be realistic and plausible; something that would be written off and buried.

"We'll need to up patrols in case someone else gets the bright idea to come here," Hurt commented. Then he resumed their conversation. "So will these adolescent interlopers pose a problem or not?"

"It would be best to engage them with diversionary tactics as well. Perhaps El Sombrero would like the challenge of trapping them," Hush answered casually as he reached for his belt, pulling out a small device and turning it on. "Let's not take any chances. We'll treat them as if they're pieces in play and act accordingly."

Hurt's lips tugged back into a smug smile. "Regardless of the interference, it appears your true objective was pulled off without a hitch."

Indeed. Hush gazed onto a small screen, one that held a small map of Gotham and a blinking red dot that was currently moving across it. Speaking of diversionary tactics, the fight with the Royal Flush Gang had been exactly that, something to distract Batman long enough for their men to locate the fabled Batmobile and place a transmitting beacon on it. All the transmitter would do was record any frequencies it detected and send a signal back to this little device. It shouldn't do anything to interfere with the vehicle's normal functions and should go undetected.

This way, he would be able to pull off the next phase of the plan, and that would be to take away Bruce's sense of security. So far, the loved ones had been struck out, the legacy had been stolen, and now to go straight to the heart of Bruce and deal an even more lethal blow.

"It's a game of patience now, and soon enough, Batman will provide us with the next opportunity to strike at him," Hush commented. "The best part, he has no idea that he is his own worst enemy."

* * *

FlackAttack: Thought that the Royal Flush Gang would gel with the gambling theme of the Black Glove. So far, it seems to be doing just that. Oh yeah, I am also well aware of that masterstroke of voice casting. The choices of who fought who were no accident.


	9. Early Morning Headache

Author's Note: Sorry about not updating yesterday guys. Internet issues, they finally interfered with the posting schedule. So, better late than never? Please don't hurt me.

* * *

Early Morning Headache

It was the early morning hours when the group of superpowered teens returned to their, ahem, borrowed yacht, the boat still in dock and ready to set sail. Depending on who you were, you were either still pumped and excited about the big fight earlier, incredibly stressed out, or in a neutral or different frame of mind altogether.

Tim was not really in the mood for the first of the three. His very real fear of facing the dreaded Batglare had been realized and he was determined to leave Gotham _now_, while still under his own power. He had no interest in finding out what Batman's way of doing so would be. All the while, Victor and Garfield were still gushing over the fight with those other kids, skimming over the all important fact that they hadn't received their highly prized autograph yet.

"Maybe he didn't have a pen?" had been the excuse given earlier. Tim wasn't buying that.

At least the girls were keeping their opinions to themselves. Raven was a natural at that, remaining carefully blank and silent. Kori was that way as well though she was more pleasant, as hard as that was to describe. Cassie was also quiet, but she had this look on her face that Tim had a hard time describing or figuring out. He honestly had never seen her like that before. It was unnerving.

"Alright you two, can it. We're setting sail," the dark-haired teen finally interrupted the back and forth between the boat's other two males.

"What's the hurry? Can't we relax first?" Victor asked, his heavy metal feet tromping on the deck of the boat.

"Don't you know? Red's in trouble with the Bat," Gar teased, his body turned just enough to look like he was talking to his partner in crime, but his eyes were aimed at the other, non-superpowered kid. He sounded like a little kid, or a group of them. You know the tone, the one where everyone said "ooooh, so and so's in trouble." Yeah, that's what the green shapeshifter sounded like.

"I don't know where you guys were, but we were told to leave before Batman does it for us and I don't want to find out how he's going to do it," Tim cut in, sending a glare at the two guys. "He doesn't make threats like that without being able to follow through."

"C'mon, Red! This was our first time! And he was awesome!" Gar complained, following after the costumed vigilante as the aforementioned teen marched his way to the yacht's bridge. "And we just got here! And it's been awesome! We can't just leave now that things are getting exciting!"

"Exciting? We got into a fight with another group of kids, probably also trained to kill, and that's awesome?" Tim summed up incredulously. He even gave the green teen a look that questioned the shapeshifter's sanity.

"But we met Batman!" Gar argued.

"Who wants us out of the city ASAP. Are you gonna argue with that or are you going to, oh, I don't know, ignore it and get him more pissed off at us than he already is?"

"Dude, chill. I think he might appreciate the help." That was Victor speaking up. "How often does he fight people with superpowers? He could use us."

"He fights with the Justice League, I think he knows how to handle people with superpowers," Tim refuted. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that these two idiots were trying to find a way to stay in Gotham. Wouldn't put it past them, to be honest.

"If I may speak, it appeared that he was not on the right side of the conflict," Starfire remarked.

Oh no, not her too.

"This is a respect thing, and I respect Batman too much to ignore a threat like the one he gave," Tim explained as patiently as he could.

"That was a threat? Ah, that explains why his voice lowered as it did."

Now was not the time to let idiosyncrasies go over your head. Please, stop making this a trial.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but how did you not know that he was threatening us?" Okay, he hadn't meant to say that but his curiosity won over his respect.

"The threats I am use to involve bodily harm of the life-threatening variety including dismemberment, disembowelment, and vivisection. I apologize for not understanding that some threats may not include any of those." The Tamaranian looked away sheepishly, her cheeks slightly blushing. Tim couldn't use the word red because red tended to really blend in well with her orange skin.

"Yeah, and he didn't say he would do anything like that to us," Gar added his two cents. "C'mon Red! Let's help him out! Those guys he was fighting got away so you know they're going to come back and make some trouble. We can be there to stop them!"

"And get Batman's autograph?" Raven quipped.

"Yeah, and that—I mean, no! It's from the goodness. Of our hearts. You know?" Victor had put a hand to his face while Gar sputtered with his denials.

"You might want to get your story straight first," Raven recommended as she walked past the changeling, though she did approach the teen vigilante. "I'm more curious about that man that was with them. The one with the bandages on his head. Do you know who he is?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say that I do. I mean, Batman's been on the scene much longer than I have. Who knows who else he's fought over all these years."

Raven nodded her head in acceptance of that answer. "In light of that, I am cautious over what I'm about to say next. When I got a good look at that man, I detected the taint of death on him."

"You're going to have to translate that," Victor said helpfully. The cyborg had taken to leaning against a wall, a safe distance away from the yacht's pool so if anyone happened to get the itch to jump in, he wouldn't get splashed.

"The taint of death only affects people who have died. That man wearing the bandages has died at some point," Raven clarified with a bland tone of voice, as if the subject matter wasn't dark and macabre.

"You mean...he's a zombie? Is that why he wore the bandages?" Gar squeaked, eyes wide. While some would mistake that tone as fear, Tim knew better. That was more excitement as the green teen was geeking out even more.

"I'm more likely to say that he's a displaced spirit," the resident magic user elaborated, eyeing the changeling blankly. "The body and soul do not match up. When that happens, one of two things occur. The body begins to decay or the soul withers away and leaves an empty husk. You need constant rejuvenation spells to prevent either from happening."

"I'm only getting half of what you're saying." And now Cassie was speaking up for the first time since they had gotten back to the boat. Weird; now that Tim thought about it, she had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. "But let me get this straight. If he's dead but now in another body and needs to be whatever you said all the time, how's he doing it?"

"Rejuvenation spells are easy, a dime a dozen. You just need to find someone who knows how to do them. Typically, whoever brought that man's soul back to the plain of existence has to know those spells to keep any decay from happening," Raven explained.

"So the man who controlled those children is in turn being controlled by another?" Way to go Kori and you asked in such a way that was real easy to understand. Thank you so much.

"That makes sense," Victor remarked. "The guy who can resurrect another person would know about that decay stuff, or would have to."

"Resurrection spells are incredibly difficult, which brings me to my other point," Raven cut in before there could be anymore self-congratulations of understanding her. "All types of magic are influenced by the user. That includes invocations, such as casting a spell with the assistance of, let's say, a demon. The demon's influence will be woven into the spell itself. As I looked at that man, I felt an influence I have never encountered before. It wasn't demonic, it wasn't human, and it wasn't divine."

"So...can you tell us what you know about it?" Tim couldn't help himself; he was getting drawn into this discussion.

"I thought I just made that clear; I don't. All I know is that it wasn't...natural." It was hard to tell but the memory had caused Raven's slight frame body to shudder. The hood and cloak she wore did a good job at hiding it, but not good enough, which was very concerning. "Think of it like...like a fingerprint. I've never seen or detected this kind before, but I want to find out."

Oh no. No. Not the most logical and reasoned of them now. Based on his head count that was...four in for staying. Quickly, Tim looked to Cassie, but he already knew what her answer was going to be. It was always going to be something to inconvenience him because that's how she liked to tease apparently.

The blonde girl, for her part, did not look at him, but merely said, "Whatever this fingerprint business is, I don't care about it. I'd like to get my hands on him and show him who he's dealing with." Just his luck that the resurrected guy insulted the hot-headed girl in some way that the dark haired teen had yet to figure out.

"Then how about we go looking for them? Before they find us?" Gar suggested, a big shiteating grin on his face.

"But..." Tim tried to protest.

"Red, let me save you some time. We're not going anywhere until we settle the score," Cassie interrupted bluntly. "If Batman has a problem with it, he can take it up with my fist. First thing is first, I say we get some shut eye before going on the hunt. I think I see the sun rising and I know we've all been up all night."

Oh wow, and would you look at that? At the horizon, where the Atlantic Ocean continued without interruption, Tim could see the violets and blues that signaled that dawn was approaching. And suddenly, he could feel the effects of pulling an all-nighter weigh down on him. Still, if people were going to agree to taking a power nap, then maybe he could…

"Hey Cyborg, think you can disable the engine so someone doesn't get any thoughts about sailing us out of port behind our backs?" Cassie asked out loud, her voice raised deliberately. A blue eye peeked over at him, and he knew she had correctly guessed his thoughts.

It figured. It really did. It was like the world was out to get him and make him see Batman's darker side. Oh, the Dark Knight was not going to be happy when he found out this group of rebellious teens were ignoring his threat.

He could only pray that the guy wouldn't...oh who was he kidding? Batman was going to find out one way or another, and Tim knew that he was going to get all the blame for it.

Goddamn teenagers.

* * *

It was the first time Talia had been in the boardroom of Wayne Enterprises. She had expected she would end up in this room eventually, what with her foray into Gotham's business world. It was almost like a rite of passage for up-and-coming companies when trying to make it big.

It was a shame that her Beloved was not here for it.

Talia couldn't help the distaste she felt as she took a seat at the end of the table, a few of her representatives seated next to her in a show of solidarity. They were making themselves comfortable, placing their work materials in front of them, stacks of the Head Development Corporation's proposal. Talia knew it back and forth, even the most minute details; yet, she found she did not care for it. This meeting had been scheduled the moment she had turned her father's former front into an actual place of business.

Before her were the very people that had voted her Beloved out, all of them chatting amongst each other. The very sight of them annoyed her. Even more irritating, there was a man that bore a striking resemblance to her Beloved, though it was clearly not him. He had taken a seat right next to Lucius Fox, who sat at the head of the table. The way he carried himself, the way he sat in his chair, it was all annoying to her.

"Good morning, everyone," Lucius greeted the room, causing the chattering board members to quiet down. "I open this meeting with the head of Head Development Corporation, Ms. Talia Head and representatives. Ms. Head, I would like to thank you for your time in appearing before the Wayne Board of Directors."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Fox," Talia returned the greeting, a thin smile on her face. She placed her hands onto the table, intertwining her fingers together as she shifted in her seat. "Before my company extends its proposal, I cannot help but observe not all members of this board are present. Is Bruce Wayne not coming to this meeting?"

She knew exactly what her words would do to the Board, a few uncomfortable glances mixed with a few stupefied ones. "Umm, Mr. Wayne will not be coming," one of the members answered her.

Which she knew. After all, his ouster had been televised throughout the city for the last day or so. She just wanted to learn why and force these cowardly people to explain their actions. One did not reject a great man like her Beloved. "I was under the impression he would be. Why is he not here?"

Again, the members looked to one another for support. Cowardly indeed. "Have you not seen the news? It has been broadcasted all day yesterday," a woman asked her.

Talia leveled her with a cool gaze. "I only arrived in Gotham a mere two hours ago after a long flight from abroad. I have spent that time preparing for this meeting and I never watch what you Americans pass for television programs, which would include your news stations. So I request you explain Mr. Wayne's absence lest I lose interest in doing business with you."

This, of course, was a lie. One did not need to watch television as long as one had an internet connection. However, this was on purpose. Her tone, her confidence, even, dare she say, her brashness, was all a plot to put these people off-balance. They were most likely used to being in a position of power when dealing with other company representatives. It must have been a long time since someone held that power over them.

Glancing from face to face of each board member, she paused at Lucius Fox, who watched her with a curious look. No doubt he had realized her ploy and was waiting to see how she was going to play this. Next was that infuriating man, the new interim president, Lincoln March. He was not cowed like his fellow board members, his eyes narrowed as he puzzled over her tactics. At least, that's what she assumed he was doing. He had a poker face that was quite effective and the twitch with his eyes was so far his only tell.

"I'm sorry to be the one to inform you of this, but Mr. Wayne is no longer affiliated with Wayne Enterprise," a middle-aged man said.

Talia turned her full attention to this man. "And you are?"

The man coughed uncomfortably before answering, "Dennis Lundy, ma'am."

"And why is Bruce Wayne no longer here?"

"Because it was deemed by this board that he was too negligent in his duties to Wayne Enterprises."

Talia raised an eyebrow. "How was he negligent?"

Another member spoke up, a woman this time. "Mr. Wayne was shirking his responsibilities. He did not participate in board meetings and was completely unprepared in the ones he did attend. He wasn't representing us at meetings with other companies, or charities."

"And yet, Wayne Enterprises has been doing financially well, yes?"

"In spite of him, yes."

Again, Talia surveyed the room before returning her eyes to the latest speaker. "Then it would seem those responsibilities you say he was avoiding were delegable. Is that not what he did?"

Another man shook his head. "No, they were not. I believe you don't understand—"

"I don't understand?" Talia deliberately interrupted. "Do you not have public relation departments and other representatives? Do you not deal with hundreds, if not thousands of companies yearly?

"Well, yes—"

"Did you expect Mr. Wayne to attend each and every one of those thousands of meetings? Or was there no one else qualified for such a role?"

She could see the growing unease within the Board. "I don't suppose so," the board member replied stiltedly to her. "But he wasn't even doing that much—"

"If I was in Mr. Wayne's position, I would have delegated such responsibilities," Talia interjected yet again. "And seeing how well Wayne Enterprises has been doing, I would say he chose his people wisely. So again, tell me why you removed him and do not treat me with the contempt you have already shown me."

Her words elicited some gasps throughout the room. One of the older members nearly leaped out of his seat at her blatant insult. The man would have snapped at her had it not been for Lincoln March, though.

"I apologize for this reception, Ms. Head," March spoke to her, his tone soothing and calm. Clearly he wasn't affected like the rest of the Board. "In regards to Mr. Wayne's removal, it was felt he was not performing up to the standards set for his office. In an attempt to correct this, he was removed."

"And what standards are those? That he, as you Americans say, burn the midnight oil every night? Make his entire life this company? Is that the standard for all employees of this company?"

March shook his head. "No, of course not, but Bruce Wayne wasn't even meeting the minimum requirements."

Talia stared at him before she spoke. "It is in my experience that inactivity is misconstrued as a weakness in this country. In fact, it is the opposite. An effective leader does not micro-manage every aspect of his work. He knows to delegate and in order to do that, he surrounds himself with capable people, ones that can be relied on and trusted. As evident by Wayne Enterprises' current financial situation, it would appear he was successful in this. And because he was successful, the people he brought in took over his workload to the point he did not even have to supervise them. That is the mark of an effective leader, ladies and gentlemen."

"I must disagree with that assertion, Ms. Head."

"Then you may disagree." Talia then leaned forward over the table. "But you are wrong. However, it would also appear that I am wrong as well. If Bruce Wayne had picked all of you out to handle the business of Wayne Enterprises, then I must say he made some poor decisions in selecting all of you. It is clear none of you know him."

"You are out of line, Ms. Head!" one of the male board members shouted at her, anger written over his face. "I highly suggest you tread lightly."

No, she would not. "Whoever you are," she said flippantly, "tell me, who is Bruce Wayne?"

The man frowned. "What does that have anything to—"

"Answer the question. Or is it that you do not know the answer?"

The silence that followed was indeed her answer. To this, Talia shook her head in disgust. It was a show, of course, but it was effective. "I met Bruce Wayne many years ago. He had left Gotham following the death of a man he was close with. He was...in shambles." Talia gazed coolly at the Board. "I was there for him to help heal the scars of his heart. It was a beautiful moment.

"Now though, I see the true reason why he left. He left not to grieve, but because he had no one here to share his grief. It is as plain as day to me."

"And none of this is relevant to the matter at hand," Lincoln March retorted. "There are many of us that weren't on this Board at the time of this death in the family."

"And yet, I would wager that not a one of you have asked how he is. You have not asked him about the late Mr. Pennyworth. In fact, I believe not a one of you even knows the man outside of his checkbook."

If the Board was uncomfortable with her initial onslaught, they were now. It was hard to deflect a truth as cutting as the one she had revealed. "I believe my castigation is complete," she said, much to a couple of audible sighs of relief from the Board. "Now, let's get to the business at hand."

"Yes, I believe that would be welcomed," March agreed.

"Head Development Corporation will not be doing business with Wayne Enterprises."

The shock was visible on each and every board member's face. Even March's mouth had dropped open by Talia's announcement. "It has become very obvious to me that there is not one person here I care to do further business with. I now see why Bruce Wayne never trusted you with his personal life and it causes me to not trust you either."

Standing up, the rest of her company's representatives also stood up, gathering their things. As one, they began to walk around the long table, heading for the exit. "Before I leave, there is one last thing I would like to tell you all," Talia said as eyed each and every member present.

And then something else caught her eye.

Because of her position in the room, Talia was now given a good look of the Gotham skyline outside the window. For just a brief moment, she could have sworn she saw something strange about the buildings. Right now they appeared to be normal skyscrapers; yet, an instant ago they had been a different color, as if something had been painted on them. It would be wrong of her to attempt to recreate that moment, especially as she made her leave of this place.

Shaking off her momentary distraction, she said, "Loyalty is valuable. I am loyal to Bruce Wayne, which is something I cannot say for all of you. I would advise all of you to keep that in mind; you never know when your fellow members will turn on you and you will be cast aside just like you did to Mr. Wayne."

And with that, Talia and her entourage left. There was a feeling of satisfaction within her, one that warmed her stomach. No doubt they would spend the rest of the meeting defending their questionable actions to themselves. They were weak-willed and weak in spirit.

However, it seemed one such person was not. "Ms. Head," a familiar voice called out to her as she neared the elevators.

Turning around, Talia was greeted with the sight of Lucius Fox approaching her. "You certainly make quite an impression, if you don't mind my saying."

Talia tossed her head back haughtily. "I wish I had known the people Mr. Wayne employed before coming here. I would not have wasted my time today if I had."

"Allow me to apologize on my behalf—not theirs. I would have called you about it, but as you can imagine, the upheaval in the wake of Mr. Wayne's departure has taken precedent."

"I imagine it would."

"Ms. Head, I hope I won't be troubling you if we were to set up a lunch meeting, just us. There is something I would like to discuss with you."

Talia raised an eyebrow. "Did you not hear what I said in your boardroom, or do you wish for me to repeat myself?"

Mr. Fox shook his head. "This doesn't concern Wayne Enterprises so much as it does Bruce Wayne. I suppose you recall our first meeting, yes?"

It took a moment, but Talia did recall that meeting. "I do," she acknowledged.

"Then there is something for us to discuss in detail. I'll set up a time for, say, tomorrow, or the day next."

"Tomorrow would do just fine."

"Excellent. You have a good day, Ms. Head."

"As to you, Mr. Fox."

* * *

While the scene at Amos Fortune Casino was being processed, Sarah Gordon found herself not on that case. Maggie Sawyer would be handling that, not that Sarah begrudged her. Sometimes you won the lottery and other times you lost. That didn't mean that there wasn't a shortage of other crimes.

If nothing else, Gotham would never be short on crime.

The latest case placed on her desk, again decided by random chance and lottery, was about a kid named Becklyn Turner. Around seven in the morning, his body had been found in his car, parked in the south side of the city. A small pile of bottles, mostly empty, sat in the passenger side seat, all prescriptions for various antidepressants. Resting on the dashboard had been a note, one that detailed how Becklyn had been suffering from mental illness for the past couple of years and had been hiding it from his family and viewers out of shame.

A little digging had turned up that Becklyn had a Youtube channel where he posted videos of himself exploring abandoned or empty buildings. Urban exploring was what he called it, and right now she was doing a little investigating on that to make sure it was a real thing and what else that entailed.

In the meantime, a toxicology report was being drawn up. It was standard to do so in the event of a suspected overdose. The evidence at the scene seemed to point to this being a suicide, as tragic as that was. Of course, she would wait for the autopsy to come back and see what the coroner had to say.

Still, if it all added up to what was placed in plain sight, then it was an open and shut case.

Of course, she wasn't paid to accept anything in plain sight. There was always stuff in the background, hidden beyond the surface, and all of that needed to be looked into.

That meant going into anything and everything that had happened to Becklyn in the months prior to his suspected suicide. So far, he had posted his plans up, exploring various buildings in Gotham. Apparently this guy was very prolific in that; his highest viewed video was an exploration of the A.C.E. Chemical Plant, or what was left of it. That place should have been condemned a long time ago, but bureaucracy and red tape had stalled it for years.

In recent months, most of the places he had been exploring didn't have the same reputation behind it. One of the last places he had chosen to go to was Stonegate Prison, a long defunct and shut down prison complex that was out of order. A quick search revealed that many others had already explored that place, from "professional" urban explorers to amateurs, to kids looking for ghosts. It had been done to death, pardon the phrase, and there would be very little Becklyn would add to that.

A camera had been found in the car, and the only footage on it was what was left from a previous exploration. There was nothing to get from it except for raw footage that might provide a glimpse into Becklyn's personality. But even with such footage, it did not confirm or disprove the claim of mental illness. Depression was more than possible to hide.

No matter how Sarah looked at it, this was one of the few open and shut cases she had to deal with. While she liked such cases because of how quick they were to progress, it still did not take away the tragedy of the situation. Someone was going to have to notify the family, more than likely her, and then keep investigating until all leads were exhausted. With suicides, those tended only to last maybe two or three days before being closed.

Becklyn wouldn't be the first person to take his life, and he wouldn't be the last. Sarah could only do what she could and move on to the next case.

* * *

Secrets could be hidden in many ways. Cover up was the usual method. Hidden in plain sight was trickier unless you knew how to tease them out. When it came to investigating magic and its darker aspects, the hidden in plain sight tended to be the M.O. for that.

Now how did one figure out how to expose those secrets. In Corrigan's experience, you needed to go back to the beginning and see what clues had been left behind. The site of the rituals had been the end of the trail, or so he was led to believe, but from his experience, it was more like the middle of the story.

As for the beginning, when it came to magic, you had to look far into the past. Not one year, or two, or three, but decades, if not centuries. Based off the clues he had gleaned from the site, the detective had gone to the Gotham Public Library and entered its archives, specifically looking for any and all information on the building in which that secret room was located under.

Naturally, there wasn't much about that; the culture of a people even a century ago was radically different than its current day incarnation. The creation of a new building was not cause for recording for future generations. The movement of archiving and preservation of centuries old architecture was still young and had not crossed the Atlantic just yet.

Corrigan was not surprised by this, and had expected such a finding. That did not mean he dropped his research. There was still information to be found if you knew where to look, and while researching that building was a dead end, learning more about Gotham's past not.

There was always something in the past, no matter how small, that could shed light on what was happening now. Since Gotham was one of the oldest cities in the country, there was a lot that could have happened that lead to that basement room having a sacrificial altar.

In recent years, when exploring Gotham's origins, the fabled Court of Owls was a favored topic. Thanks to recent events, authors were coming out of the woodwork to cash in on it, publishing book after book about the "true" origins of Gotham's version of the Illuminati. The detective had read a few in his time, usually when he was bored.

However, there was one thing, other than the mysterious Court, that was also entwined with Gotham's history. It was difficult to go through the copies of old newspapers, each stored on safer and easily maintained microfilm, without seeing this one name occur again and again. Then again, even in this day and age, the Wayne Family was synonymous with Gotham.

A family whose past extended as far back as the city's founding was another place to investigate. When it came to blood magic, there tended to be affluence involved somewhere. It usually came in either the forms of protecting blood magicians or obtaining the knowledge of the dark art. Regardless, an initial search through the Wayne Family history, or at least what was on record, had provided a new lead.

You could say what you wanted about the current incarnation of the Wayne Family, but the ancestors had a lot more in common with the aristocrats and politically connected. This particular lead had been found in the Wayne Family Tree.

Seemed like even in the eighteenth century, the practice of _damnatio memoriae_ was alive and well.

Wealthy families only engaged in that practice under severe and damaging circumstances, and nothing was as severe and damaging as blood magic. Naturally, the dark arts had had name changes over the millennia, and for the American colonies, there was another name that was commonly used. Some called it witchcraft, others devil worship. The only question was which it was, and did this erased member of the Wayne Family engage in any of it.

And on top of it, that building in the Bowery had once been Wayne Family property, in particular during and after its construction. A room hidden as it was had to have been deliberately added and not some happy accident for some eager dark arts practitioners.

Yes, there was a huge potential for this lead to go nowhere, but Corrigan always followed his hunches. Whether he liked it or not, those hunches tended to pan out and bring him to where he needed to go.

Packing up, the detective took his research materials and placed them back where he had found them. Adjusting his coat, he let this unoccupied portion of the library, walking past employees who would look right at him but made absolutely no reaction to seeing another person.

Probably should note that the area he had been in was restricted and no member of the public was allowed in. It paid to have a few spells of his own to help out in his investigating.

* * *

FlackAttack You'll have to wait for Fox to show what he's up to. As for Cassandra, there's a plan in play. Long term, of course, but as of right now, she's spreading her wings, getting to know people instead of knowing their existence. Take into consideration her past, and socializing is not going to be a strong point for her. Still, it'll be a treat to watch this young woman blossom into something great. How she will see the other females in her life, we'll have to see, but if her interactions with Pamela Isley are anything to go by, arms length is how it all starts. And yes, I know judging other women by the standard set by Poison Ivy is a poor way to start.

Watcher: I guess it's more like it's not the size of it, it's how you use it. This wouldn't be the first time someone put a device foreign to the Batmobile on it, and there's always some kind of plot armor on it so it's not detected until it's too late. We'll see how this one fares.


	10. Evening the Odds

Evening the Odds

The doorbell rang and rang and rang. It was as if someone were punching the button over and over, not even waiting for the previous chime to complete before the next started.

Descending the stairs, Bruce grumbled, his eyes twitching as his house was filled with that annoying chime. He was seriously changing it sometime today, once he thrashed whoever had the gall to abuse the doorbell. They were just asking for a punch to the face.

"You can stop it already," he growled as he reached the ground floor, heading for the foyer. Marching to the front door, he grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, swinging the door open. "What?!" he barked.

Standing on his front porch was none other than Zatanna, a dainty hand resting on her hip and a large smile on her face. She was in casual wear, though casual for her wasn't your typical t-shirt and blue jeans. No, she was dressed in designer clothes, complete with knee-high boots, a silk blouse, and leggings. "Top o' the morning, gov'nah!" she chirped merrily at him, a bad rendition of a cockney accent coloring her voice.

Was it wrong of him that he still wanted to punch her in the face?

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled lowly at her, glaring at the dark-haired beauty.

"Well, you did call for my help," she replied, pushing past him as she entered his house. Still scowling, he shut the door closed behind her, turning to watch as she sauntered through the foyer. Looking over her shoulder, her mirth was still visible on her face. "And now that my troupe is on vay-cay, I can give you my undivided attention."

"You couldn't have transported yourself to the Cave?"

Zatanna leveled him with a look. "Uhh, no thanks. I don't know what you do in that Man Cave of yours at this hour of the morning and I rather not find out. So I did what normal people do and I came through the front door. Got a problem with it?"

"I do when you wear the doorbell out."

"Now, now, you can't deny a girl her fun. Besides, we're about to get all serious and gothic in a moment. Let me enjoy myself."

Bruce shuffled towards the woman and then past her, ignoring her sticking her tongue at him from behind. Zana was in a childish mood this morning and he wasn't really in the mood to deal with it, not after last night's fiasco. Heading for the study and using the secret entrance, he led her into the Cave, heading for the humongous supercomputer.

"Alright, straight to business it is," the magician said as she followed after him. "Tell me what's going on, every detail." By then, they had reached the computer, Bruce taking a seat in the chair. Zana, in turn, walked right up to the computer and hopped up onto the console, sitting on it while using her hands to steady herself. "Don't leave out any of the gory details."

Bruce was ready for this. Hitting a few keys on the keyboard, the computer monitor came to life, the picture of two men appearing on the screen. "The one to the left is Lincoln March," he told her, the dark-haired woman looking over her shoulder to gaze at the screen. "The one to the right is Thomas Elliot."

"And according to you, Elliot should be dead, but is instead this Lincoln March guy." Zatanna frowned. "You weren't kidding, he does look a lot like you. Any idea as to why?"

"No, none. He claimed to use it as a way to make my employees accept him, but I rather doubt that was the case. He's a sociopath through and through, so he must have another reason for it."

"And you're sure the Lazarus Pits haven't been used to bring him back to life?"

"I am."

Zatanna blew a strand of her dark hair out of her face as she leaned back, tilting her head back so that she looked up at the ceiling. "I'll admit, I'm not too familiar with resurrection magic. A lot of novices confuse it with summoning magic and usually summon a demon instead of whomever they're trying to resurrect."

"Well, Elliot is back, for what reason I don't know. It does suggest that someone knows what they're doing."

"Which makes me like this less and less." Zatanna looked at him. "Someone who knows how to bring people back is very dangerous. They usually know a whole lot of powerful black magicks, even blood magicks. I did a little reading after my show last night to get a headstart and I get the feeling this is more along the lines of blood magick."

Bruce grimaced at that. He was firmly reminded of that altar Ra's al Ghul had shown them, something that had been used under his nose for several rituals. He was certain it had been going on for years too. While he hadn't been able to get a blood sample, he had managed to gather enough to determine the blood stains were old, degraded blood. There was no telling how many people, the DNA sequencing had been that far decayed.

"Any idea of who it could be?" the young man pressed.

"The only people I'm aware of that would deal in these sorts of magicks was a group of bat-worshipers I met a long time ago. They were fully intent on resurrecting...someone, but instead they pulled in a very powerful demon. It wasn't all that fun to be honest."

Which would explain what Zatanna meant by novices. Her reluctance to say who was being resurrected was odd, but it wasn't all that important for the moment.

"Now, the fact that someone managed to get some enemy of yours back is alarming," the dark-haired woman continued. "What has this guy done so far?"

Well, since he did call her in, Bruce felt he might as well tell her everything. "He's dug up Alfred's grave and taken his remains, along with ousting me from Wayne Enterprises."

Zatanna jerked her head around to stare at him. "He _what?!"_ she exclaimed. "Why did he go after Alfred?"

"To get at me. This whole thing is his way to get at me." Bruce glowered. "And it's working."

Immediately, Zatanna pushed herself off the console and stood in front of him. Reaching out with a hand, she pressed it against his cheek. "_We're_ going to find him and get Alfred back," she told him. "I'll make sure Alfred's body is resting in peace when this is all over."

That was a nice sentiment. Too bad he had his doubts. Sure, Zatanna could summon Alfred's body to them, but with what Hush had said at the casino, he had to be expecting him to call in a magic user. Steps would be taken to stop any retrieval that way.

For a moment, Bruce found his thoughts wandering off. The coolness of Zatanna's skin against his own was rather pleasant. The corners of his mouth twitched up, which in turned caused a small smile to appear on his friend's face.

Reaching up with one hand, he took Zana's hand from his face, absently holding to a side. "Thanks, Zana," he said to her.

"Anytime, Bruce," she told him, her tone gentle and kind. It had been longer than he cared to admit to hearing such a tone directed towards him.

"I'll look into Elliot's next move," he spoke then. "If you would use your contacts to find out if there's another magic user in Gotham, that would be another lead for us."

"You got it."

* * *

The only downside to this location was that the elevator was slow. Long overdue maintenance was required, but like some trope, the landlord was in no hurry to do anything about. So long as Barbara got to her floor, then she could tolerate any delays to returning to her apartment.

Wheeling down the hallway was practically done unconsciously, one hand pushing down and forward on one of her wheelchair's wheels while the other sought and pulled out a keychain, several keys jangling form it. Not for the first time did she note that she needed to remove a few. Again, though, it would be forgotten once she got inside, relaxed a bit, then got busy with her other job that was definitely not her day job.

Now that Gotham was starting to return to a sense of normalcy, life had to continue for the paraplegic woman, which meant resuming college classes. Fortunately this would be her final year, if not her final semester and graduation would be at hand. One of the things she had done today was learn about everything she needed to turn in prior to any deadlines. Yep, normalcy was returning and for once she did not begrudge it.

Sure, she liked being Oracle, but Dad and whatever side jobs she did would pay the bills only so much. A real career was something she needed to focus on. Since the city's nightlife was slowing down, this was the best of times to really get the daylight side of her life in order.

Unlocking the door to her apartment, she wheeled herself in with practiced ease, reaching back to shut the door behind her. The light switch was what she reached for next, lighting up the cozy living room. Automatically, she was wheeling herself again, debating to herself whether she wanted to snag a snack from the kitchen or…

Her hands gripped on the wheels, a very poor replacement for brakes. But she did stop, and the paralyzed woman stared at the figure of a girl who was standing behind her couch, watching her with dark eyes.

Barbara heart was beating rapidly; someone had broken into her home. This was not right, especially since her security system would have notified her of the break-in as soon as it had happened. However, she couldn't giveaway that this intruder had her off balance.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice calm but loud.

The dark-eyed girl, a teen Barbara noted through her glasses, stared passively back at her. The girl showed no signs of intimidation. What she did do was say, "You are Oracle."

One of Barbara's hands gripped a wheel tightly. Fortunately, that hand was out of sight of this potentially dangerous home invader. Still, she needed to respond, and quickly. Show no signs of fear and do not give this person, whoever she was, that satisfaction of having one over here.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, keeping her voice even. "I need you to leave, immediately. I will be calling the cops."

"You are Oracle," the girl stated once more, speaking just as Barbara had finished saying that last word. "I know you are Oracle. He has been here."

"What are you...who's been here?" This was taking a turn, but she wasn't in the mood to go any further with it.

"Batman," the girl said. Barbara didn't know if this girl had blinked this entire time. "Batman has been here. I know. I came here after him."

What? When? How…? Though tempted to physically shake her head, Barbara resisted. The only thing right now that kept her from reacting more...well, loudly, was that this girl had mentioned that Batman had been right here in this apartment. The thing is, the only person she had told about that was Dick, and he had kept it to himself. No one else other than the Batman could have known.

Yet, this girl had said she had followed him…

"Who are you?" she asked cautiously.

For once, the impassive and stoic body language the girl emitted cracked and some uncertainty leaked out. It was one of those blink and you'll miss it type deals, but then the girl squared her shoulders and stated, "I am Batgirl."

Barbara narrowed her eyes slightly. This girl was claiming to be Batgirl? The one that had taken up her mantle all those years ago? Now that she thought about it, this girl did look familiar, much like the person she had met during that first alien invasion, the one with the Kalanorians. Still, that had been another lifetime ago, and it would be best to be careful until everything was proven to be what was claimed.

"Okay," the paraplegic, young woman said slowly. "Why are you here?"

"Help."

A simple, one word answer, but it was one that she hadn't expected. Blinking, she replied, "Help with what?"

The girl, Batgirl, held out a hand, and what was cupped in it immediately drew the computer hacker's attention. A brief glance would have shown a blue bug, but Barbara didn't do brief glances. She was already picking out the mechanical features of this blue object, one that looked like a crushed scorpion.

"What is this? I need know," the girl told her, her speech becoming a bit halted.

Barbara looked into the girl's eyes, and for the first time she saw something earnest there. The girl really wanted to know about this thing she had.

Eventually, Barbara said, "Give it here. I'll see what I can find out about it." She held out her hand, waiting for Batgirl to hand over the metal bug. "Give me a few hours, I'll be able to tell you what you need to know."

"No. I want to know."

"Um, that's what I'm going to do."

"No. I want to know how to know."

Okay, the girl was starting to lose her. As if picking up on this, the dark-haired girl frowned, as if struggling to find the right words to say.

"I want to...learn...how to find out what it...is."

"You want to learn how to...research?" Barbara was guessing because she was having a little difficulty trying to figure out what Batgirl here was trying to tell her.

"Yes." There was an accompanying nod, affirmation to the wheelchair-bound woman's guess.

Okay, so why did Batgirl want to learn how to research? There was quite a bit that was disconnected. Barbara had no idea what the context what, what had led up to this point or anything. It was like she had stumbled right into the middle of something she had no idea was happening right now and was missing some key details.

"Okay, but I don't know what or how you're going to do that. I'm going to be using some programs to see if there is anything like this out in the world and who or what uses them," she warned. "It might be really boring for you. I would think you would have more important things to do."

"I need to learn. I need to know how to find out...to do what Batman does." Again with the struggle to find words, but Barbara figured this was par for the course. Based on what she had heard from Dick and other members of the Batclan, Batgirl here was a girl of few to no words. Did she have a learning disability or something?

"I'll see what I can do," she shrugged her shoulders and she made ready to head to her Oracle closet and get to her workstation. "Are you sure you want to stick around? I mean, with all that's going on, I'd think you would be needed elsewhere."

"I will be here." Now Batgirl was insisting.

"Alright, but are you sure? After the fight at the Amos Fortune Casino, I'd have thought you'd be sticking close to Batman," Barbara remarked.

"What fight?"

* * *

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw how ramrod still Batgirl had become. Had she not known about what happened last night? It was all over the news about a big fight that had torn up the recently opened casino and now there was this big investigation trying to find out what had happened. From the many eyewitness statements, Batman had been in the middle of some kind of fight.

Hadn't Batgirl been part of that fight too? Based on her body language and her sudden change in demeanor, the computer hacker guess that that was a big, fat no.

Sighing, she said, "Guess I'll tell you all about it while I get started on this." She eyed the blue, robotic scorpion with a critical eye. "I don't know how it all got started, but there was a fight…"

Night had descended upon the city some time ago. Dressed in a dark bodysuit, Talia took to the streets, or perhaps more precisely the rooftops.

Ever since she had seen it, it had bugged her. As well-trained as she was, her senses honed to an impossible degree, there was nothing she could not detect. She had seen something with the Gotham skyline during her time at Wayne Enterprises. While it was not proper to investigate it at the time, now it was and she was going to personally see to it.

Standing at the roof's ledge, she stared at the towering Wayne Tower. What was meant to be a beacon in this city, all she could see was a forlorn building bereft of its master. She would see to it that the situation was remedied, no matter how much time it took.

"What are we doing here, Mother?" Turning her head, she saw Damian walking towards her, a cable in hand. He had been insistent on coming out with her, donning his familiar blue and white bodysuit. Unable to deny him, she allowed this. Though he was trained, this next part she would be doing alone.

"We are doing one of many things an assassin should know," she told him, reaching a hand out to him. Begrudgingly, the boy handed over the cable, to which she attached to her belt. She already wore a harness, not that she would need it. She had a few options should the rope not keep her suspended in air.

Reaching to her belt, she pulled out a small device and handed it to Damian. It was the equivalent of a laser measuring device carpenters used to determine if shelves were level. Tonight, it had a different use. "Locate the board room in Wayne Tower," she told her son. "It should be the top floor, but your father may have a secret floor at the top."

"As he should," Damian said even as he held the device before his eyes, using the binocular feature. As he searched, Talia began lowering herself over the edge, moving down the face of the building.

A few moments later, she heard Damian call out, "I've found it!"

"Use the laser," she responded back, stopping where she hung so that she could turn her head around. Looking at Wayne Tower, she could see a red dot on one of the upper levels, even from the distance they were at. Studying it, the daughter of the Demon recalled that moment in the board room, glancing at the skyline and seeing that flash of discoloration.

She began to lower herself down, passing one floor, then two. Stopping, she looked at the window she hung in front of, then glanced back at Wayne Tower. The distance was making it a little difficult to judge the exact location. Maybe she needed to go down one more floor, or perhaps swing to one side. Glancing at the window, she saw nothing of note.

So she went down one more window. By the time it came into view, Talia found herself frowning. She could see a translucent smear over the glass and not in just one place. Most of the window was covered. Raising a hand up, she cupped it and pressed one side of it against her face, her thumb by the side of her eye as her fingers curled over her eyebrow. Pressing her face up against the glass, she looked through it and found what appeared to be an empty room.

This felt wrong. A building with this location in the city should not have an empty room. While it explained the continued existence of this substance on the windows as someone would have surely complained of a dirty window by now, what were the chances the room itself was empty? Reaching to her belt, she pulled out a piece of gauze and a small plastic bag. Pressing the gauze against the smeared window, she wiped it up and down until she had a nice sample, then placed it in the small bag. She would have this studied later.

Next, she sniffed the air and detected a rather faint odor. Again, she reached to her belt and pulled out a small canister, with one finger on top, she pressed it down and a fluid sprayed out. Immediately, the substance changed color from translucent to a pale blue. So it was indeed paint, just very thin.

Pulling herself up, Talia climbed back to the roof, where Damian was waiting. Pressing a hand to her ear, she said, "There is a substance on this building and most likely a few of the others. It is reactant to activant. I want to know what design was used."

There was an affirmation in her communication device. Her Order would perform this next task. "Did you find something, Mother?" Damian questioned eagerly.

"Perhaps," she answered him as she began removing the safety harness. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to leave some sort of message on these specific buildings. Once we have it decoded, we will know more."

"And then what do we do?"

"Nothing. One must not overstep themselves, Damian. While planning is necessary, one must never limit themselves by shackling themselves within perimeters. Always have the main objective in mind and be prepared to do whatever is necessary to accomplish it."

The child scowled at her. "So we just wait?"

"Yes, we wait."

If there was one thing she had come to learn about Damian, it was that he detested waiting. It was natural to expect that out of a young boy as they were gifted with boundless levels of energy. Standing in one place was like torture to him. However, impatience had no place in their line of work and if he wanted to become the greatest the world had ever seen, he would accept it and adjust accordingly.

Time drew slowly by before Talia received word from her assassins. _"Princess, we have completed our assignment,"_ came a voice in her ear.

"What have you found?" she intoned.

"_The design is that of words, a message written across several buildings,"_ was the response. _"It said Zur En Arrh."_

Talia glanced down to Damian, who returned her looks of confusion with one of his own. "Zur En Arrh?" she repeated. "Is that what it said?"

"_Yes, Princess."_

There was some significance to these words. Research would need to be done. "Come, Damian," she commanded as she began walking across the rooftop.

"Where are we going, Mother?" the boy asked her as he hurried behind her.

"To find out what this Zur En Arrh means," she answered him. "And once we do, we can learn more about this enemy."

"And then?"

"And then we strike."

* * *

The suit fit like a glove. A few modifications had been made to it since the Bane incident, armor incorporated in key places without sacrificing mobility. On top of that, new gear had been provided and gratefully accepted.

Harper put on the finishing touches to her newish Bluebird suit. With the destruction of her taser rifle, she had been given the opportunity to make some changes to her arsenal-namely she had to develop it again. This time, however, she didn't just go with the rifle. With more access to technology she hadn't had the first go, she had been able to develop her taser rifle in handgun form. Bulkier than your standard handgun, they were smaller and packed as much of a punch as her original rifle had. On top of that, she had customized holsters made, one attached to her belt and one on a harness, allowing it to dangle against her side much like a cop's..

Oh yeah, Harper had taken advantage of what the Network was offering, especially with the influx of tools and resources it provided.

Night was falling over the city and patrol was going to be starting soon. After the previous night's altercation with that King Kraken guy, Nightwing was on red alert. Harper couldn't blame him since the attack had been unprovoked and came out of nowhere, not to mention that guy was insanely strong. He was even immune to her new and improved taser rifle, something that didn't sit well with her at all. Tonight's plan was to find out who this guy was and why he was after them. It wasn't like they had ran into him at a robbery, or something, and this guy was going to extreme lengths for revenge. No, he had come out of nowhere and that was the confusing part.

Placing her mask on, Bluebird did one last check of her gear before leaving the locker room. Stephanie had left just a little bit ago, having completing her dressing a while ago. No doubt Nightwing was ready as well.

And as expected, as she passed through the locker room door, there were her teammates, chatting quietly to each other, though it was more Nightwing instructing Spoiler than anything. "I'm ready to go guys," the blue-haired girl announced.

"About time," Spoiler retorted. "How many outfits did you try on? I was betting six."

Bluebird rolled her eyes. "About as many jeans as you did at the mall last week."

"That's enough you two," Nightwing gently reprimanded them. There was a smirk on his face, so he was amused by their banter more than annoyed. "We're going back to where we fought King Kraken. We'll be looking for any clues that were left behind that might help us find this guy."

"Have we gotten Oracle looking anything up on this guy?" Bluebird asked then.

"Naturally. She hasn't found anything just yet, but she'll be letting us know something soon."

Which was just what she expected. It was a little surprising nothing had come back, but then maybe this guy was just low on the assassin totem pole, or whatever rankings the bad guys had.

A door opened then, causing the group to look towards it. Much to Bluebird's surprise, Black Canary was strolling into the Bat-bunker, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. "Long time, no see, Batclan," she greeted them.

"Black Canary," Nightwing returned, though he was clearly confused by her appearance. In fact, all three of them were. Despite their union in the Network, the two groups had largely separated once Bane had been defeated. There were a couple of conversations when they had run into each other during patrol, but the Birds of Prey had gone back to their little hideout while they had taken over the Bat-bunker.

"What brings you to our neighborhood?" Nightwing questioned her then, bringing Bluebird out of her thoughts.

"It's been awhile since we talked," the blonde vigilante answered as she walked towards them coming to a stop next to them. Unconsciously, Spoiler and Bluebird took a step back, widening their little circle to include the woman. "I felt it was a good idea that we caught up."

"We're actually in the middle of a case," Nightwing replied as he shifted his weight, crossing his arms across his chest. "We're about to go do a follow-up on it. How about you?"

"About the same with us," Black Canary responded. "Though Huntress decided to bring Batgirl with us. Apparently the teacher is getting the better of her and she's trying to train the poor girl."

Bluebird felt her eyebrows raise up until they disappeared against her hairline, or at least that's what she thought they did. Batgirl was with the Birds? Since when? Why wasn't she with Batman?

And just as surprising was that Huntress was a teacher. Well, it would've been had the purple-clad woman not let it slip out during their days in the Network. It had been part of one of their few downtimes, but as both groups had spoken more, the more they had let details about themselves out. No one had been surprised by Bluebird and Spoiler being in high school, the same with Red Robin. Manhunter had a law degree, Black Canary ran her own small business, and Katana was from Japan. And then Huntress dropped her teaching background and suddenly she was on all three teenage vigilantes on the merits of getting their homework done.

That was still one of the weirder times during her foray into vigilantism.

But, with Huntress taking in Batgirl, that just bolstered that already-stacked ranks of the Birds of Prey. The former hierarchy was returning with the Batclan at the bottom, the Birds a clear number two, and Batman right at the top.

"Why's Batgirl with you guys?" Spoiler blurted out then. "Aside from the teaching thing."

Black Canary shrugged her shoulders. "Huntress only mentioned that Batgirl's on a rebellious streak lately. Something about coming out of Batman's shadow."

"Well, good luck to her," Nightwing grumbled. "We've all been trying that for years."

"Maybe she'll be the one to do it," the blonde woman said with a smirk. The smile fell from her lips then. "Can I ask you guys something? Have any of you seen blue scorpions running around?"

The three Batclan members exchanged confused glances with each other. "No, I can't say that we have," Nightwing replied, returning his attention to the blonde vigilante. "Have you guys?"

"Yeah, and it's the weirdest thing. They're robotic. After we crushed them all, we discovered they had mechanical parts in them. None of us has seen anything like it. And the big thing is that we were attacked by them at a crime scene. In fact, the whole scene was staged to draw us in."

"You were attacked too?" Bluebird questioned.

Black Canary picked up on her words immediately. Her eyes sharpened on the blue-haired girl, her mind puzzling out "too." "What happened to you guys?" she asked slowly.

"A guy named King Kraken attacked us," Nightwing answered her. "Super strength, durability, and his suit was insulated against electricity. Bluebird got a good shot at him and it didn't even faze him."

Again, Black Canary looked to Bluebird. "And that's a powerful discharge too. So you and us were attacked last night." She frowned. "Something's going on here."

"You think we need to meet up?" Nightwing questioned.

"We just might. What are you up to tonight?"

"Like I said, follow up. We're going to be checking out the place we had our fight with Kraken to see if anything was left behind."

"Do that. Let us know what you find out. We'll be coordinating things on our end."

Faintly, Bluebird felt as if the Network was starting to rev back to life. There was something comforting about that, as if it never really went away. They would have access to the Birds' combat experience, not to mention their new recruit in Batgirl. Together, they would all handle this.

Exactly the reason why the Network existed in the first place...

* * *

FlackAttack: This is the al Ghuls, which makes sense for them? The company in question is a shell company that's been used by the Demon's Fang as a front; check back to _Genesis_ on ShadowMajin's account, and you'll find the one Talia's using. In this case a construction company, which will come in handy with rebuilding Gotham after that Knightfall trilogy we just had. Plenty of opportunities to sneak in some things into the city's infrastructure if you know what I mean.


	11. The Next Gambit

The Next Gambit

There was a strong sense of Deja vu going on here.

Huntress hadn't expected to be back in the Bat-bunker so soon. Eventually, yes, but not mere months since the last time.

The usual cast was here, the Birds of Prey and the Batclan. The Bats were noticeably absent, which wasn't all that surprising, though she had expected Batgirl to be there. Then again, she hadn't shown up to the Birdcage that evening nor were any of them able to get in contact with her. They would just have to catch her up later.

Of course, the meeting couldn't start until Oracle took the floor.

The green light from the ceiling beamed down onto the center of the table, an avatar appearing within the light. Oracle had to have a lot of time on her hands lately because the hologram was of a feminine looking face. On top of that, Huntress suspected that no matter which side you were looking at it, the face would be staring back.

"_Thanks for waiting everyone," _Oracle greeted them over the speakers. _"I was just finishing up a couple things on my end."_

"Mind telling us what you found out?" Nightwing asked her, leaning forward in his seat.

"_I'll start with what I did find out. That blue scorpion Batgirl brought to me is indeed of mechanical origins."_

"No, really?" Huntress muttered to herself. She could tell that just from looking at it. She didn't want to think of how much time Oracle spent trying to figure that much out. She had a feeling it would be rather embarrassing.

"_It's highly advanced and controlled remotely. The tails contain a very high dose of a pain medication called Fentanyl. Hospitals usually use it for controlling surgical pains, but it's highly potent. They only use small doses, as in micrograms. Anything higher can cause an overdose, which leads to respiratory depression and death. The dose I discovered was in several grams."_

"Umm, Oracle?" Spoiler interrupted as she held up a hand. "For those of us that don't know grams and micrograms, could you explain it a little better?"

There was a muffled sound over the speakers before Oracle responded, _"Think of it this way: a microgram is a thousandth of a gram. That's very tiny and hospitals only give those tiny amounts every few hours. This scorpion's sting delivers thousands upon thousands of what a hospital safely gives. Does that make sense?"_

"Oh. Yes. Thank you."

"_Anyways, I did some digging and I've found a few instances on the dark web of these scorpions being used. There wasn't anything on who uses them, but apparently there's an up-and-coming assassin using them as their trademark."_

_Up-and-coming?_ Part of Huntress couldn't help but feel insulted by that. It wasn't some professional like the ones Bane had hired, but someone trying to make a name. Then again, if anyone wanted to make a name for themselves, they would've gone after Batman first. That this scorpion user instead went after the Birds meant they were being cautious and getting a sense of what kind of resistance they'd be up against.

Damn it, she was an established vigilante too. She was not someone's practice dummy!

"_As for this King Kraken guy,"_ Oracle continued, _"there's not much on him either. He's either new to the game too, has a calling card no one has been able to identify, or is good enough that no one can pin an assassination job on him."_

"Any of those sound reasonable?" Huntress asked, looking to Nightwing.

The young man thought about her question. "I get the feeling it's not the third one. He wasn't anything like Merlyn, or Deadshot, or even those military guys we fought at the power plant. He's prepared though; Bluebird's taser rifle wasn't any use against him."

"So that gives us someone that controls an army of robotic scorpions and...what was Kraken's abilities?" Black Canary began to summarize before making her inquiry.

"Insanely strong, high durability if not invulnerability. His suit is insulated against electricity assuming he's not invulnerable. Definitely knows how to fight."

"So we have a meta-human running around or someone with a suit of some kind," the blonde woman summed up. "And both attacks happened last night too. Throw in Batman's little fight and we were all busy."

Oh yeah, Batman's fight, and the one that received all of the media attention. Now, Huntress couldn't begrudge this since his took place in a very public place, a casino.

"_And he went up against four people calling themselves the Royal Flush Gang,"_ Oracle added.

"Hold on, the Royal Flush Gang?" Manhunter repeated. "And there's four of them? Jesus, can they not count? You need five cards for a flush, not four."

"_That detail aside, it looks like there's a lot of new players in Gotham," _Oracle continued, trying to return the conversation back to its topic.

"Wait a second, three fights?" Nightwing questioned. "Something doesn't seem right."

"Yeah, a bunch of people don't know what a flush actually is," Manhunter muttered.

"That's...not what I mean," the young man responded, unsure how to appropriately do so. Who knew Manhunter had a problem with inaccuracies? "I understand there being a fight with Batman. I don't think anyone is going to argue that. I'd even say the Birds have their own well-earned reputation as crime fighters in this city. But why did an assassin come after the Batclan?"

"Don't tell me you're going to bring up your inferiority complex," Huntress groaned. She had overheard a conversation once with how the Batclan perceived themselves. It wasn't like there was a popularity contest going on and even if there was, it had been won a long time ago.

"I don't have an inferiority…" Nightwing trailed off, shaking his head. "Really think about it. The city barely knows about the Batclan. We don't have that good of a reputation other than we're the other vigilantes. There is no reason for an assassin, even an up-and-coming one, to come after us."

The purple-clad woman had to blink her eyes. She had to admit, he actually made a good point. Why had this King Kraken gone after them?

"You've had people come after you before, though," Black Canary brought up. "Remember the Court of Owls and their Talons? They were chasing after you that one night."

"But that's because we had found out about them and one of their little lairs. There was a reason. I can't think of a single reason for King Kraken to come after us. We haven't busted anyone with super-strength that would want revenge. We've only really apprehended drug dealers, robbers, and rapists."

"I think Nightwing is onto something here," Huntress found herself agreeing. "Something about this isn't adding up."

"Three fights, the same night," Katana spoke up. "I wonder if they were around the same time."

"But that would indicate someone was targeting all of us," Manhunter replied.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Black Canary said. "Regardless of whatever status we may feel, each and every one of us has done something to draw someone's attention, the biggest being Batman. It's possible that someone has plans for Gotham again and they want to do what Bane did and take out all obstacles before they make their move."

Oh, great, another Bane. Though he was a man of muscles and incredible strength, Bane had a brilliant mind, tactical and intelligent. It wasn't until he went up against someone with the same intellectual prowess that he suffered any defeats. To think there was another person, someone that had clearly been taking notes during that months-long siege was irritating.

"It seems we should be doing some investigating of our own then, to see what person is trying to take over Gotham this time," Huntress said at long last. "Nightwing, you said the Batclan was going to investigate the scene of your fight, right?"

"That's right," he agreed, nodding his head.

"You guys go do that. The Birds will go see if there was anything we missed out our own little fight. We'll reconvene at the end of the night. Oracle can keep us all in contact, especially if we have a smoking gun, not that I'm holding my breath that we'll find one."

Because a smoking gun was never to be found in the first act, after all. And she was willing to bet this was all just starting.

* * *

When a case came to a dead end, there were very few options to consider. In fact, the only one available was reviewing the case in case something had been missed.

That's where Bruce found himself. With scanned images of the documents he had found at Quality Tool & Die on the computer monitor, he read through them one image at a time. Hopefully he had missed something, anything, to help continue with the case.

Zatanna was nearby, a comfy chair with lace and frills standing out in the gloominess of the cave. The magician had magicked it out of thin air, sending him a cheeky smile before taking a seat in it. Currently, she had a massive tome in her lap, the dark-haired woman flipping a page ever so often as she read it.

While he was dealing with the physical, Zatanna was searching for some lead on how Thomas Elliot was alive. If she could discover the spell, she could then reasonably narrow down the list of magic-users that could be responsible for his resurrection.

Logically that made sense. Logic was comforting to someone like him. It was how he dealt with hundreds of kidnappings and missing children cases. Yet, he was still antsy, brimming with suppressed energy. As comforting as logic should be, none of those cases had been personal. All had been with strangers. Of course, he had given his all to solve those crimes, regardless of their outcome; however, none of those people had been _Alfred_.

He wanted him back home, where he belonged. He wanted to exact vengeance of the man who had the _gall_ to take him.

Bruce shook his head. He wasn't even seeing the screen now, which was a perfect way to miss something. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it right. Anything less was unacceptable.

"Finding anything?" Tearing his eyes away from the computer screen, Bruce looked to Zatanna, who was staring at him from over the top of her absurdly large book.

"Nothing so far," he answered her, letting his frustration leak into his voice. "What about you?"

She shook her head. "Just getting reminders of the darker side of magic. Just when you think humanity can't get any crueler, something comes along and says, 'hold my beer'."

Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but Bruce had been expecting as much. Both of them were looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack; it wasn't like the answer was going to be waiting for them in plain sight.

Looking away from the dark-haired woman, Bruce started back at the top of the document he was reading. It looked familiar, especially after having read it mere seconds ago, but he wanted to make sure he hadn't missed something when his emotions got the better of him. So far it was of a permit, nothing too spectacular…

Bruce frowned, his eyes narrowing. There was a distinct lack of a location for the renter, not to mention unfilled spaces for names and contact info. It was almost as if the renter had bought off the seller so that they could skip the paperwork. For covering up one's trail, it wasn't a bad idea, but it was just another roadblock for him.

Clicking to the next page, he suddenly spotted the name Thomas Payne. It was one of the few times his name had popped up in the forms, at least when it had to be there. There was no contact info on him, which was another irritation. It was practically taunting him at this…

Wait, what was that? Leaning forward in his seat, Bruce caught sight of an address. After all of this time and the countless documents he had read through, something so mundane had slipped through. All the carefulness to remain anonymous aside from the offered alias of Thomas Payne and finally there was a slip up. "156 Morrison Ave," he read out loud, standing up from his chair.

Zatanna looked up from her book. "What was that?"

"I have an address on this Payne. He left an address in the paperwork that was filled out on the backhoe."

"How convenient. Where is it?"

Already, he was typing in the address, doing a search. A map of Gotham appeared on screen before it zoomed in to a location on the southside. That was a residential zone if he wasn't mistaken. Perhaps this was a house, or an apartment.

"South Gotham, the Coventry area." Grabbing his mask that laid on the computer, he pulled it over his face, turning to head for the car. He heard the sound of high heels clashing against the cave floor moments later. He ignored it in favor of focusing on the car.

Reaching the car, the canopy sliding open, he hopped into the driver's seat, Zatanna joining him in the passenger. Sending her a questioning look, she said, "There may be something magical there. You'll need me if there is."

"You can't just teleport yourself there if I do find anything?'

"And set off any magically-sensitive traps? How about, no."

Well, if that's how she wanted to play this, fine. Turning on the car, the engine revving to life, he punched his foot onto the accelerator. Even as the canopy slid back, the car blasted forward, racing down the tunnel that led out of the cave system.

* * *

By all appearances, it was a sheer rock wall, one that stretched up into the sky. If you knew the area well, then you would know that atop a nearby cliff was none other than Wayne Manor, overlooking the area like a monolithic castle lording over its kingdom.

Quietly, without making a single sound, a small portion of the rocky surface rose up, revealing a long, smooth tunnel that had artificial lighting illuminating it. A pair of headbeams lit up a deeper segment of the tunnel, growing brighter and brighter until the Batmobile itself rocketed out of it. Rubber crunched against a small, gravel road that led directly to the tunnel's exit, and in less than a second, the long, black vehicle was racing down that road.

Behind it, the tunnel opening shut, returning to its stoic vigil, the only evidence of anything happening being the leaves of the nearby trees and bushes rustling from the passing of the bat-themed car. If you had not been there, you would have never noticed that there had been anything unusual happening.

Minutes passed by slowly as the rustling leaves stilled and the quiet night resumed, only interrupted by the sounds of the local wildlife.

Then a figure stepped out of the bushes, tugging his trenchcoat out of the foliage when it was snagged. That inconvenience out of the way, Hush turned his attention back to the rock wall in front of him, allowing a small smirk to form on his lips.

He had to hand it to Bruce; the camouflage was impeccable. Had he not witnessed it, the former doctor and interim CEO would have thought nothing special about the sight in front of him.

Soon enough, his appreciation was interrupted as a second man came to his side. "Everything according to plan?" Hurt asked casually. The doctor was still in that casual getup of his, but he carried a duffel bag with him, the straps over his shoulder.

"Gotham should keep him busy long enough for everything to be readied," Hush stated as he pulled out the tracker, a moving red dot showing that the beacon placed on the Batmobile continued to move further and further away from their location. "Even if he doesn't come across any of your little Easter eggs, the normal happenings will stall him enough. Not even the efforts of the Black Glove is strong enough to completely end crime in that city."

Reaching to his belt, he removed another device, one that had a small knob on it in which he began to turn.

"He'll be looking for you and he'll follow after any bread crumbs that have been carefully placed," Hurt said, his voice full of confidence. "His own obsession will keep him blind to the real attack."

"It won't take long to get everything set up, regardless. My only question is what you intend to do," the bandaged-faced man questioned, turning his head enough to eye Hurt.

"Just pressing another button, bringing him ever closer to his self-destruction," Hurt chuckled. "When you're ready."

His turning of the knob stopped and Hush raised the device, pressing on a flat button. In response, the tunnel exit began to open, the artificial light lighting up the immediate area in front of it. Thanks to the tracking beacon recording any frequencies emitted by Bruce's suit-up car, it wasn't hard to get it programmed into this glorified garage door opener.

"Open sesame," Hush remarked sarcastically.

* * *

It wasn't paranoia when you knew you were in deep shit. They shouldn't still be here, not in Gotham. The group of teens should be out on the open seas, heading back to the west coast, and going as far as they could from this place. At least, that's what was Red Robin's opinion.

He couldn't stop looking over his shoulder—literally—fully expecting a certain Dark Knight to pop out of the shadows and fully make good on his threat. Why was it that the others weren't taking this as seriously as he was? It was like none of them really believed that Batman wasn't a man of his word. Or maybe it was because they thought themselves good enough to continue operating in Gotham without getting caught.

Pfft, yeah right.

It figured that he ran with a bunch of people who needed to learn things the hard way. After being denied the means to try and sneak them away from the city with them unawares, the masked teen found that he could only give in and hope that the next reaming would be bearable. Who knew what Batman was going to do to him? It looked like he was going to find out, though the when was subject to debate.

In the meantime, he was going to try and keep this group of teens in check and keep property damage to a minimum. When night fell and everyone was rested, they left their borrowed yacht to venture out into the night.

At the very least, they had a plan. Red Robin had to give the others credit for that at least. Instead of wandering around Gotham randomly, hoping to get lucky, a cooler, smarter head, i.e. Raven, had prevailed by asking how they were going to try and find the Royal Flush Gang when they had no idea where they were. There had been back and forth, stupid ideas suggested and shot down, everyone's general ability to problem solve turning out to be underdeveloped, the usual.

The subject of tracking had come up at some point, and after some exploration of that, some details being ironed out in the process, that became the game plan. Now this wasn't going to be some "oh, we're just gonna track them down" with nothing specific in the mix. Someone had gotten clever, though it was clearly by chance and not deliberate, and the idea had been thrown out there on a whim.

However it came to be, all that mattered was that they were sneaking into the Amos Fortune Casino, the site of the last place they had seen those superpowered teens and fought with them. The building was closed and taped off, the cops still going over the place. There was a lull in activity, so currently security was at a minimum. It was only a few cops keeping an eye on the doors and making sure no one snuck in to contaminate the place.

Somebody had forgotten about the hole in the roof that really needed a tarp over it. Maybe somebody was going out to get one and would be right back. Regardless, that was their ticket in.

The lights were off, which made the place look different, eerily different. That made a lot of sense as it was lit up with all sorts of lights the last time they were here. Who knew a casino looked so haunted when all the machines were shut down and the complete lack of gambling addicts.

Keeping an eye out for any cop that might wander by, Red Robin said, "Alright, we're in. What's next?"

"What's the rush, Red?" Wonder Girl asked. Seemed like she was falling back into old, teasing habits. She was several feet away, seemingly keeping up vigil by some damaged poker tables...no, wait, those were roulette tables.

"Sticking around, especially when you're in a place you're not suppose to be, is never a good idea. So let's get this over with."

"Indeed," Raven spoke up, preventing any back and forth from occurring. Glancing in Cyborg's direction, she said, "You're the one that came up with this. Let's get this over and done with."

"Yeah, sure," the cyborg teen replied, his eyes zeroing in on the resident green shapeshifter. "Yo, Grass Stain, you're up. Turn into anything with a good nose. The stronger, the better."

"Yeah, yeah, I got a good one. Give me a sec," Beast Boy said, almost grumbling. His brow furrowed and then his body shifted, taking the form of a basset hound, complete with sad, almost bloodshot eyes. Immediately, he began sniffing around the group of teens, a slip of a tail wagging behind him.

As he sniffed around Wonder Girl, the blonde asked, "What are you doing?"

"Gotta sniff you guys so I don't get you wrong for the other guys," the changeling explained, giving a sneeze. "There's a lot of people in here. And they all smell weird." Now there was a bit of a whine to his voice.

"Tough it up and find us those creeps, would you?" Cyborg cut in.

However, Wonder Girl was eyeing the metal teen skeptically. "This is your big plan?"

"In my defense, dogs have some of the most sensitive noses in the world," Cyborg defended. "It's not my fault we don't have some scrap from those other guys that we could have used to narrow it down."

"While I do not understand the mechanics of this plan, I will say that Beast Boy looks very adorable," Starfire remarked. "I do have some concern; are his eyes suppose to be like that? They look like individuals on Tamaran that have imbibed too much ethanol."

"Can you keep it down?" the shapeshifter demanded, looking at them. He raised his earflaps up as much as he could to emphasize his point. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry," Cyborg apologized, looking sheepish before grimacing. He had that look like he wanted to smack himself in the face.

The following silence was awkward, only broken up by the loud sniffing sounds as their literal hunting dog moved about the darkened casino. Red Robin never expected to be in such a position before, and had never planned on being in it. Life was funny like that. To distract himself, he focused more on listening for any sounds that would indicate anyone heading their way. So far nothing, but the floor was carpeted so that meant footsteps would be naturally muffled.

Then Beast Boy gave an abrupt sneeze, given a couple sharp exhales while shaking his head. Odd, but the masked teen could chalk that up to natural dog behavior. The comment that came next, however, dispelled that. "That's just not right."

"What is not right?" Starfire asked, floating closer to the green dog.

"I'm smelling a lot of people, but this one sticks out," the green changeling explained, shying away from a certain area. If Red Robin recalled correctly, that should have been where Wonder Girl had been fighting the night previous. "It's...It's not _right._ I don't know how to explain it better."

Raven was the one who cut in. "It could be that you're smelling out our bandaged friend. Try again, see what else you can pick up."

"Do I have to?"

"This is important," the cloak-wearing girl insisted, boring her gave into the hound. "I need more information."

Beast Boy shied away from her. "Okay, okay! I'll...do it." Though he started reluctant, his sniffing began to pick up once more. "Then, okay, that's familiar."

"What's familiar?" Raven pressed.

"That wrongness I'm smelling. There's some blood in it."

"Describe it."

"It's kinda like...like the stuff that Brother Blood did. All that magic and blood and stuff."

"Blood magic," Raven stated, and was it Red Robin or was her voice hard? Like, as hard as Batman's got when he heard something he didn't like?

"How can you tell that?" Cyborg asked, walking up to the smaller girl.

"Just based on the descriptions and our prior experience with Blood," the hooded girl answered. "Whoever our bandaged enemy is, he's involved with blood magic somehow. It doesn't explain everything I sensed about him, but it's bringing me closer."

While there were things about what happened beneath the Church of Blood that many of them didn't know, or comprehended, they all understood that this was a bad thing. So now someone using blood with magic was all the way here on the east coast. Was it someone who was connected to the defunct church? After Raven had dealt with Blood and the building collapsed in on itself, that cult had scattered to the four winds and there was not even a peep of them.

By now, Beast Boy was honing in on a spot close to where some rubble laid. His tail was wagging furiously. "I think I found something!"

"What is it?" The masked teen was picking up on the shapeshifter excitement, and after the conclusions that Raven had come to, something else to make him think about other things was more than welcome.

"I think...I think I'm smelling Batman! He smells like...bat guano. It's horrible but this is the fourth greatest moment of my life," Beast Boy...fanboyed.

"How do you know what bat guano smells like?" Cyborg asked incredulously.

The silence that answered could be taken as "you don't want to know." Red Robin certainly didn't want to know and wasn't about to press the issue.

"Kinda makes sense," Wonder Girl remarked, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, Batman has to live somewhere, right? A bat cave makes sense."

"Why is a cave of bats so special to a man of bats?" Starfire wondered aloud.

"Can we focus now?" Cyborg interrupted. This was new since a lot of the time, the metal teen was a cause of things being unfocused. "Grass Stain, have you found those guys yet?"

"Oh yeah. I'm getting their scent. A couple were standing real close to Batman, remember? Yeah, they don't smell like all the other people here. They aren't sweaty or desperate. Yeah, I think I got it."

While there were still some details missing, Red Robin found himself a bit surprised. Had this hairbrained plan worked?

"Can someone pick me up? I remember them getting on those big cards of theirs and flying up through the hole. I think I can follow after them," Beast Boy continued, coming to a stop towards the hole in the ceiling that they had used for their entrance into the casino.

"I shall," Starfire volunteered, the Tamaranian quick to pick the green dog up.

"Hey, don't squeeze too hard! I bruise like a banana!" Beast Boy protested as he squirmed in the alien exile's grip.

"Alright, let's hunt us down some creeps!" Cyborg cheered, giving a fistpump in the air.

Already, the group of teens was psyching themselves up, but Red Robin struggled not to get swept up in it. They were still trespassing in Gotham, and there were so many ways they could attract the wrong attention.

Batman's attention.

But they were on a roll, and he had no choice but to go along with it. There was no way any good could come from letting a bunch of superpowered teenagers run amok in Gotham without some kind of restraint or supervision.

He did miss the days when that was Nightwing's responsibility, and not his.


	12. A Not So Chance Encounter

A Not So Chance Encounter

"This is a lot of bull, man! Why we got to stay here while everybody else is out there doing shit?!"

Ten was complaining, antsy about not getting any action tonight. With the rest of the males, this was a statement that was wholeheartedly agreed with. A certain Queen could have cared less and showed so in her slumped posture. To distract herself, she magnetized and levitated several small pieces of metal, orbiting them around a hand.

"You know what I'd like to do? Get my hands on the scrawny green kid again," Jack remarked, egging Ten on. "Twerp doesn't know how to fight, just turn into some stupid animals."

"And I'd like to rip those stupid arms off that stupid robot guy and beat him to death with them," Ten added, punching a fist into the palm of a massive hand. "I'll rip all their arms off."

"You'd have to do that before I blast them all to kingdom come," King retorted, leaning back in a chair and balancing on the chair's legs, the bottom of his booted feet perched on the edge of a table. Holding out a fist, the limb was covering in a bright glow. "Boom! Done. Hope you like them extra crispy."

"That little honey back there was giving you a hard time. Then again, I can't say you were doing good since I was busy," Ten taunted, sneering at the shorter male.

"Yeah, she sure was," Jack butted in on the rib.

"I was holding back. If I went all out, there wouldn't have been a bit of ash," King boasted, allowing the glow surrounding his hand to fade away.

"If you'd like my opinion—" Queen began.

"We don't," King interrupted.

"—a tanning bed would have given her a worse burn," Queen finished, not even taking the time of day to even look at the victim of her latest burn, pun totally intended.

"Watch yourself," King warned, frowning at the teenaged girl. "There's a reason I'm King. _I_ am the strongest of all of us."

Both Ten and Jack were rolling their eyes, used to the ego of the third male. This wasn't the first time King had made such a claim and neither of the two really cared. Queen, on the other hand, always seemed to have a problem with it.

"Please," she scoffed. "All you do is shoot fireworks. I can control all metal on earth. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that _I_ am the most powerful…"

Abruptly she trailed off, her eyes moving over to the sight of a slight girl, one in a black and white leotard who stared blankly at the air in front of her face. Because they were called the Royal Flush Gang, and all other names had been given, this one had to be Ace by process of elimination. Unlike the rest, Ace had remained quiet, barely expressing any kind of emotion.

"...the second most powerful," Queen corrected. "All you do is brag. All I do is bring results. I think it's obvious who should really be in charge."

"You get results because of _my_ leadership," King retorted, leaning further back in his seat and placing more effort in his balancing.

"Yes, because your leadership helped me _so much_ while I took two of them on at the same time. Unlike you, _I_ wasn't getting my butt handed to me," she quipped.

King was glaring, eyes filled with rage and his teeth clenched, visible from parted lips. Before he could say, or do anything, Ten interrupted. "Who gives a crap how many you fought. I only care about getting a second chance at beating the crap out of them, and I ain't gonna do that hanging around in this place. I want to get out there and get some action!"

Emphasizing his frustration, Ten raised a fist up and brought it down, smashing it into the thin table on which King balanced his feet. As a result, King and his chair fell backwards, the teenaged male giving an "oomph!" as his body landed on the concrete floor. Queen gave out a loud laugh, amused by the pratfall.

"So much for being a king!" Queen cackled.

"Laugh it up, princess. I'm in the mood for assassination," King growled as he pushed himself up on his arms, sending a glare Ten's way.

"Great idea, get the brass pissed off at ya," Jack taunted, stretching a pinky finger to scratch and then pick at his nose. "Betcha that Hush guy will be all sorts of pissed, not the least the Doc."

That was more than enough to pour some cold water over King's anger. If nothing else, the mere mention of the Doc was more than enough to stop any kind of argument. There was something not right with that guy, and Hush was the one who wrapped bandages around his head for some weird reason.

"I'm betting that once he figures out what to do with us, he'll send us out again," Jack continued, ignoring the somber atmosphere. "Until then, we relax and—"

"You make too much noise."

Four pairs of eyes darted towards the sight of King Kraken who blocked most of a doorway. Only one pair remained motionless, continuing to stare into nothing.

"Yo, Scuba Dude," Jack greeted.

Kraken ignored him. "You want some action. I have some."

"Ya don't say," Ten commented as he cracked his knuckles. "What'cha got?"

"Something to get you to shut up for ten minutes. If you want to be useful, come with me," Kraken retorted before withdrawing from the room. That was very informative, not. Four of the five members of the Royal Flush Gang looked at one another before heading off after the helmeted man. Whatever he was offering, it beat having nothing to do.

Only Ace remained behind, continuing to remain in silence, staring straight ahead.

* * *

The apartment was sparsely furnished. There was a couch, a couple chairs, and a television set in the main room. There was a distinct lack of a dining room or table, along with kitchen appliances and cookware. The bathrooms didn't even have shower curtains or necessities save for toilet paper. The bedroom had a made bed in it, but it appeared that no one had slept in it in quite some time.

Despite this, Batman searched the place thoroughly. This was the address he had found in the Thomas Payne paperwork and he was not going to let appearances fool him. There had to be something here belonging to Payne that could give him a lead.

"I don't know who this Payne guy is," Zatanna remarked as she sauntered through the dark apartment, hands on her hips, "but he seems rather boring."

"Keep looking," Batman instructed her, which earned him an eyeroll. "There has to be something here."

"Alright, World's Greatest Detective." Zatanna pivoted on her heels and walked down a small hallway that led to the bedroom. At first the vigilante thought she was going to check it again, but then she opened a different door, one that belonged to a second bedroom. "You would think having a second bedroom would make this guy convert it into an office, or something. This place is practically empty."

She was right. If Batman didn't know any better, he would've said this place was thrown together in a day and completely forgotten about. There weren't any papers, there weren't any keepsakes, there weren't any pictures on the walls. This place was starting to look like a dead end.

Damn it.

He had to fight back the urge to growl in frustration. Aside from being a useless gesture, it wouldn't do him any good. He was being toyed with, plain and simple, and he suspected who was behind it. Hush had to have dropped the name in the paperwork knowing he would eventually find and track it down. There was no telling what reason Hush had for sending him here other than him trying to prove just how much smarter he was over the Dark Knight.

Yeah...yeah, that had to be what this was about. Hush had to be somewhere, watching, laughing at his expense while the dark-clad man fumbled around fruitlessly in his wake.

That's all any of this was like. Some maniac would come along, wreak havoc on the city, taunting him the entire way until he somehow, miraculously stopped them. It was like that every single time.

Why did he keep doing this?

A headache was starting to form at the base of his skull, causing him to wince as it grew stronger. It was just the latest one in what was becoming a more common occurrence. It had to be a result of the abuses he had done to his body. Why it was presenting this way, he had no idea.

And if this was his reward for all he had sacrificed, then why did he keep doing this? His body was breaking down, he was nearly estranged from a girl he had adopted as his own, his relationships with the people around him, like Zatanna, were damn near non-existent. He could go on.

The pounding in his head was coming worse. Squeezing his eyes shut, Batman winced as the back of his head exploded with pain. Damn, that was bad. Taking a deep breath, he fought back at the pain until it slowly began to recede, but not by much. Faintly, he could hear a voice, but he couldn't make out the words.

Why was he still doing this? Why didn't he stop? He should stop if this was all he could achieve. There were other things he could do that didn't require him risking his life every night. The voice grew louder, clearer as he thought this. It was claiming actually, agreeing with his thoughts.

"_I must put away my Batman costume and retire from crime fighting,"_ it said. Batman felt himself liking that thought, at least until something occurred to him. Whenever he had an internal monologue, he could practically hear it in his own voice. Those words, they almost sounded like him, yet not. There was a strange difference he couldn't put his finger on.

"Batman?"

Why was it different this time? Something within him, no matter how tempted he was, did not like this different voice. He nearly rejected it on principle, much like when that Kalanorian tried to brainwash him.

"Batman?"

Where had it come from? It wasn't as if—

A hand grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn, startling the vigilante. "Batman," Zatanna repeated, her voice stern, yet worried. "Is something wrong?"

The headache began to recede again, only this time it went from a constant throb to a barely noticeable feeling. That wasn't the first time he felt that. "I'm fine," he managed to grunt out after awhile.

"You sure? You've been staring at that painting for a while."

_Painting?_ Batman immediately looked back to the wall he had been looking at, finding the painting Zatanna was referencing. The moment he did though, his headache started to come back and that voice began whispering in his ear again.

He jerked his head away from the painting and those strange effects stopped. What was going on here? "I think we've hit a dead end here," he said after awhile.

"Yeah, no kidding," the magician agreed. "So where to now?"

Batman spun on his heel and walked towards an open window, their way into the apartment and now their exit. "Let's go back to the car. We'll access the computer terminal there and see if we can't get another lead."

Without waiting, he hopped out of the window, his hands grabbing onto the hem of his cape. The wind rushing up towards him as he fell caused the cape to billow out like a parachute, one he used to control his fall until he landed on the ground below. A moment after he landed, Zatanna appeared in a burst of smoke, walking next to him as they moved down an alleyway. Several feet away sat his dark car, the canopy sliding open the moment he activated it.

The two crime fighters hopped into their seats, the car revving to life a moment later. However, Before Batman could so much as begin closing the canopy, something—or rather, someone-landed right on the hood of the car, startling the two adults.

There, crouching right in front of him, was Batgirl, her body covered by her cape as she stared at them. For once, Batman felt himself surprised. He hadn't expected her to arrive like that, or to be frank, ever. What was she doing here?

"Hey, Batgirl," Zatanna greeted her, a smile appearing on her face. "How's it shaking?"

Batgirl ignored the magician. "Are you alright?" she demanded, staring right at Batman.

The two adults glanced to each other, each showing their confusion. When their attention returned to the younger girl, she had crept up to the edge of the cockpit, leaning forward as far as she could go without losing her balance. Her face was leaning towards Batman's, hovering perhaps a few inches away. "I heard of the fight," she said.

Oh, that's what she was getting at. "I'm fine," he told the girl. An awkward silence fell over them, the Dark Knight looking at the girl as she stared intently at him. "Uh, how are you?"

Batgirl...ignored his question. "What is going on? What happened?" She leaned her face even further than he thought she could. "Why did you not tell me about the fight?"

Okay, this was getting too awkward. "I didn't want to interfere with your branching out," he told her. Batgirl's jaw clenched at that, clearly not the response she wanted. "I can handle this."

"You can? Then why is Zatanna here?"

"I think she's got you on that one," the dark-haired woman added.

Batman sent a glare at his old friend before returning his attention back to his wayward daughter. "If you want to be filled in, then not here. We aren't in a safe place."

"Then where do you suggest we go?" Zatanna asked. "I'd rather not have to magick us all over the city. That gets pretty tiring after awhile."

"I'm not leaving the car behind either," he retorted.

"Uhh, you do realize this is only a two-seater and there's three of us, right?"

Batman glanced to Batgirl and then back to the magician. "I think we can make something work."

* * *

As far as Nightwing could tell, there was nothing special about the place. It was just a rooftop, one that looked like any other in Gotham. The only thing that made it of any interest was that this was the spot where King Kraken had attacked them with no warning.

Along the way, the vigilante had noticed other rooftops, ones that were better suited for an ambush than this place. There were many better hiding spots—how had he missed not seeing the guy coming out of nowhere?—many bigger rooftops that could have been used for a fight, and many other ones with better vantage points.

Right now he was scratching his head about this. Even with the little information they had received from Oracle, this whole thing didn't make sense.

Really, why did Kraken attack them? They were one adult guy and two underaged girls...that really sounded bad now that he was thinking about it. To get his mind off that train of thought, he looked over to his partners, the girls looking over other points on the rooftop.

"Find anything?" he called out.

"No one's done anything about the chimney," Spoiler responded, looking at the site where Kraken had been pinned and destroyed in his escape. "I don't think anyone knows what happened up here."

Not really helpful but he wasn't going to say anything. Spoiler was trying, that much was certain, but she could try not going to the most obvious thing in the area. Alright, time to hear out Bluebird.

"Did you fall all the way over there? I can see someone's boarded up a window over there," Bluebird answered, one of her hands over her eyes like a visor.

Somehow, that was less helpful than Spoiler's offering. Looks like investigative skills were going to need to be emphasized for both of them, that is if he was going to keep them out here. Right now, his doubts about letting those two continue to be vigilantes were growing by the moment.

"Does it tell you anything about where Kraken was when he hit me? Or why? Or if this was a deliberate ambush and not some weird freak accident?" Nightwing pressed, turning fully to the girls. "I'm not finding anything over here, and by the sounds of it, neither of you are finding anything too."

Both were silent, though only Spoiler fidgeted where she stood. Bluebird, for once, seemed like this was going over her head. "What's so important about finding out why that guy attacked us? He's a bad guy, he does bad guy things, and we could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"So what did he do that was bad that had him running to this rooftop?" Nightwing retorted. "Did he steal something and was running from the scene of the crime? If so, what did he steal? Did he drop it when fighting us? If I had stolen something and was on the running and happened to run into people like us, I wouldn't have stopped to have a brawl. I would have kept running. Bad guys don't just do things because they're bad guys. They have reasons, even if we don't like what those reasons are.

"Now keep your eyes peeled, start looking around, and—erk!"

He had been in the middle of turning away from the girls, fully intending on matching action to word, when he came face to face with a dog. He blinked his eyes dumbly, taking in the long snout, the large nose, and the droopy eyes that blinked back at him. Now, while it was surprising to see a dog at face level with the tall vigilante, there was one more thing that took the cake.

The dog was green, not dyed green, but naturally green. Green fur, green skin, green eyes, even the whites of the eyes were a light shade of green.

"Dude, you gonna get your face out of mine?" the dog asked.

Nightwing stumbled back, quickly reaching for his escrimas not out of malicious intent but pure reflex. He had no idea what was happening, his brain was slow to keep up with it, and right now, he needed something he understood and fall back on.

That was when, thanks to the distance he now had between himself and the dog, he was able to get a bigger picture and found that someone was holding the dog, which explained why it was on the rooftop in the first place. That someone, however, was floating, again explaining why the dog was face level with him. Also, that person was orange.

And a woman.

A very striking and attractive woman.

Needless to say, Nightwing was speechless for many different reasons.

"Excuse me, local citizen. Perhaps you could provide me aid," the floating, orange woman spoke up, her tone friendly but very loud. It was more than enough to bring Bluebird and Spoiler to either of his sides, Bluebird handling her taser rifle while Spoiler held a few birdarangs in hand. "We are in search of some individuals with monosyllabic names and were curious if you might know where we could find them."

"Uh, lady? You're floating. And your dog's green," Bluebird stated.

"No, duh," the dog said.

"The dog talks!" Spoiler squeaked.

Other words were being thrown about but Nightwing found that his brain was short-circuiting. He had seen a lot of weird stuff, but this was taking the cake. A floating orange woman with a talking green dog seemed to be the very limit that his sanity would tolerate.

But then, life decided it was going to throw something at him that did make sense, and it came in the form of Red Robin arriving on that glider cape of his. Nightwing grasped onto that, taking in the sight of the younger vigilante, the masked teen's eyes wide as he recognized them.

Before the teen could speak, Nightwing took the initiative. "Red Robin! Can you tell me what this is?" he exclaimed, gesturing to the sight of Bluebird having an argument of all things with a green, talking dog.

Red Robin turned his head to look at the sight, and grimaced. "Okay, you remember about those guys I told you about? The ones that I went with to Santa Prisca?"

No more needed to be said, Nightwing got it. These were two members of that young Justice League thing his former partner was making out west. Already, he could see others arriving, from a girl in a hood and cloak who was also hovering in the air, another girl in a red leotard and gold armor, and lastly a cyborg. This was certainly an eclectic group, to say the least.

"Okay, let me ask you this," the older vigilante said slowly. "What are you doing here? Still? Shouldn't you have left already?"

"Who's this, Red?" the blonde girl in gold armor called out, strolling over to Red Robin's side.

"I'll tell you later," the masked teen answered the girl first. "And Nightwing? Trust me, this was not part of the plan. I tried to leave but—"

"We're trying to find some guys. Maybe you could point us in the right direction," the armor-wearing girl spoke up, interrupting the native Gothamite.

"Okay, hold up, hold, up, hold up," Nightwing said loudly, holding up a hand. Pausing, he then shot out, "That goes for you too, Bluebird! Knock it off!"

Bluebird looked away from the green dog, who was also looking in his direction. The orange woman was too, her green eyes observing him curiously.

"Alright. What are you doing here?" There, a simple enough question that would hopefully get him some answers. As the blonde at Red Robin side began to open her mouth, he cut her off, "By the way, who are you? Should I know who you are?"

The blonde girl grimaced this time, and Red Robin took advantage of her silence. "You heard about that fight, right? The one with Batman at that casino. There were some other kids there, ones with superpowers, and the guys wanted to see about finding them and taking them down. So that's what we're doing."

Giving Red Robin a sharp look, Nightwing frowned. "Casino?" he repeated. He had been aware something had happened last night, but he had been too distracted with the King Kraken attack to really pay attention to it. However, with the info from the Birds of Prey and a strike using blue scorpions still at the forefront of his mind, the gears in the vigilante's head were starting to turn. "It wouldn't have happened to be around ten at night, right?"

While Red Robin looked unsure, it was the cyborg that answered. "That's about right."

Now his thoughts were racing. "That definitely makes it three," he murmured.

"Three what?" the blonde girl demanded.

"We were attacked last night. So were the Birds," he said aloud. "And now Batman. What were the odds they all happened at the same time?"

"You guys were attacked?" Red Robin asked, and Nightwing could hear the incredulousness in his voice. Not that he blamed his former partner; they both knew where the Batclan stood in the scope of things.

"Three attacks," Nightwing continued. "There's something else going on. These weren't random, they were coordinated."

"You believe there is a conspiracy?" That was the hooded girl speaking up, and she seemed to be on the same page as him.

In response, Nightwing stated, "This is Gotham, there's always some kind of conspiracy. But this is a first. Someone went out of their way to target all the vigilantes in the city. This wasn't just Batman, who's the biggest target, it's everyone."

The orange-skinned girl tilted her head. "Do you feel you are in danger?"

"Feel? No. I know we're in danger. What I want to know is who's behind it."

"I'm betting it's that mummy guy," the blonde girl responded, throwing a look at Red Robin.

"Mummy guy?" Nightwing repeated.

"There was someone else at the casino, one who stuck out like a sore thumb. I have no idea who he is, but those teens we fought listened to him. If what Wonder Girl told me is also true, Batman was dead set on her not fighting him," Red Robin explained.

Nightwing took in the explanation, his eyes flickering over to the blonde beside him and guessing that she was Wonder Girl, and then mulled over it. So on top of everything, there was one more guy, one that Batman insisted on no one else fighting. The more he learned, the more he felt that this was a shitshow waiting to get worse.

"You wouldn't happen to know anyone that matches that description, would you?" the cyborg asked.

"I wouldn't," he admitted, "and from what you're telling me, I'm liking this less and less. Something's up, we're right in the middle of it, and like always it's only going to get worse from here on in."

"So what's the plan, big man?" Bluebird asked.

"For the time being, I think it would be best if we stuck together," Nightwing said, speaking his thoughts out loud. As he opened his mouth to continue, something—more like someone—rammed into him. The color orange was very prominent in his sight, but then the explosion that occurred next deafened him.

* * *

This was the part of the job that rarely was put into the movies or on television. It always starts with a knock, and then waiting for an answer. That answer always took the same form, that of a door opening and exposing the occupants behind it to the cruel world that Sarah Gordon stood in.

This time was no different, a woman nearing retirement age answering her knock. The standard "Can I help you?" was spoken, and Sarah successfully kept her distaste for this part of the job hidden.

No matter how long she did it, she would never get used to informing families about the death of their loved ones.

"What do you mean? What are you saying?" the woman questioned, the look on her face one that had etched itself into Sarah's soul. It was a look she had seen on multiple faces, but they were always the same, no matter who the person was.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the lieutenant said, trying to put as much empathy as she could into her voice. "If—"

"Please, come in," the elder woman interrupted, standing aside to welcome the law officer into her home. "I...I need to know what happened. Please...Ms?"

"Lieutenant Sarah Gordon," she introduced herself. Seeing as this was not going to be a short visit, Gordon accepted the invitation to come inside. There was the possibility that she might be able to get more information on the victim, and as the investigator, she needed to obtain as much information as possible before investigating further or closing the case.

Once inside, she was escorted to the family room, a man also nearing retirement age watching TV and looking up at her arrival. There was some confusion at her arrival, but fortunately, the woman who had answered the door was quick to explain to her husband the purpose of the lieutenant's visit.

From there, it was Sarah explaining that their son had been found, a suicide by overdose using prescription antidepressants. He had committed the act in his car and that had been where he was found. She was here to inform them about what had happened and perhaps ask a few questions just to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"I don't understand, he wasn't sick!" Mrs. Turner exclaimed, starting to look like a mess. "He had no problems. It doesn't make any sense. He wasn't on any medications."

"I found a history of him receiving antidepressant medication for the past few months," Gordon explained.

"Becklyn wasn't depressed. He's too strong for that," Mr. Turner argued, looking frustrated. "Are you sure you're doing your job?"

"That's why I'm here, to gather more corroborating evidence," she explained. "If you know something, or would like to share something, now's the time to tell me so I can look into it. Everything so far has been—"

"Have you looked into those friends of his? That internet stuff he did? They're a bunch of losers, need to get real jobs. They've been dragging Becklyn down with them for years," Becklyn's father stated.

"Can you give me their names? Where I can find them?" the lieutenant asked, a small notepad and pen removed from her person so that she could take the notes.

"He would have said something. He would have told us if something was wrong," Becklyn's mother whimpered.

Gordon glanced at the distressed mother before returning her gaze to the angered father. The man was starting to rant about how much better his deceased son was, how his son's friends were destroying his life, and what did the police think they were doing because his son would never have committed suicide-he was too strong.

"Their names, sir. I need their names so I can look into them," she insisted.

Mr. Turner didn't know their names, and didn't know how to contact them either. Neither did Mrs. Turner, but she insisted that her baby couldn't have committed suicide, he just couldn't have. This was something that Sarah was used to when having to inform loved ones of their loss. It could have been a natural disaster, and still there were times denial occurred.

Eventually, she excused herself, but not before leaving a card for them to contact her, in case they found something or came up with a lead for her to follow.

Leaving the residence, she gave a long sigh as soon as she was far enough away.

This was always the part of the job that few people told you about. Even in the academy, they tended to gloss over it. Sometimes you had an instructor who would set it to you straight, but until it was your turn, there was really no way to do something like this the right way. The loved ones needed to be told, one way or another, and sometimes you were the one who had to do it.

It didn't make it any easier. To be honest, in Gordon's opinion, the Turners were a classic denial case. They wouldn't accept a suicide as a cause of death, and odds were they were going to request having their own autopsy done. It would be on their dime, not the state's, so it was no longer of her concern.

In the end, Becklyn was going to be listed as a suicide and his case closed, and it would all be based on the evidence at hand, not the beliefs of his loved ones.

Yet, it still didn't make it easier.

* * *

FlackAttack: So far, we've kept the others in tact. Why mess with a good thing?


	13. Take Another Hit

Take Another Hit

The alleyway where the scorpion attack occurred hadn't revealed much. The damage from that insect horde was still there, though there was the presence of police tape cordoning the area off was new. The body was gone too.

So if the alley itself didn't show much, perhaps a different angle was needed.

Looking at the hole a large batch of scorpions had burst through, Huntress found herself looking all around herself. She was in the building as were the other Birds. The room itself was a maintenance shed, filled with tools, maintenance supplies, and a running air conditioning unit. The machine hummed loudly, forcing the women to block out the sound as they investigated.

For some reason the hole looked smaller to Huntress. She could've sworn it was bigger when they had been attacked. Crazy how things looked at the time versus now.

"As far as I can tell, some did their best to weaken the wall right here," Manhunter said, crouching in front of the hole. "There's no sign of an explosion, but considering how they burst through the wall, someone had to remove a sizeable part of the inner wall and loaded this room with those little bastards."

"We already know this whole thing was set up prior," Huntress said, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "There were those ones crawling out from beneath the body, and let's not forget the ones crawling from the roof."

"This room wasn't broken into," Black Canary pointed out from over by the door. "There's no sign of forced entry and the lock isn't even engaged. Our perp practically strolled in here, did whatever they wanted to do, and left. No one even checked this place out between the set-up and the actual attack."

"Let's go back outside," Huntress said before turning to the hole. It was big enough for each of them to slide through, though it might make for a tight fit for a couple of them. Already, Manhunter was pulling herself though, disappearing until her legs passed through.

Huntress was next and she did well right up until her hips passed through. She could feel the edges grab at her sides, causing her to grimace before she completely pulled herself through. Quickly getting her feet beneath her, she landed and moved out of the way. Black Canary was next, having some of the same issues as she did.

Katana brought up the end, but she stayed by the hole as the other three spread out. Surely there were other clues to be found. In fact, Huntress was considering scaling up the building to see if anything had been left up there.

There was a sharp cry then, causing Huntress to snap her head around. She was just in time to see Katana falling to the ground, landing hard on her stomach. Black Canary and Manhunter had done the same thing and each of them felt their stomachs drop at the sight of the Asian woman falling.

However, they didn't have much time to stew in their astonishment. Standing behind Katana's prone form was another woman and a bizarrely-dressed one at that. Scantily-clad in boots, arm length gloves, and a leotard, the most eye-catching of embellishments was reserved for her head. What looked like insect legs extended out from either side of her head, along with a rather large tail coming out from the back. There was a sharp point at the end of the tail, making it look very much like a scorpion's tail.

Huntress paused at that. _Don't tell me, this is the person behind the robotic scorpions._

"Who the hell are you?" Manhunter demanded as she hauled out her bo staff, holding it by her hip, one end pointed at the mystery woman and ready to blast her into the next block.

"Not many people get to ask me that question," the woman responded, the end of her tail beginning to swing hypnotically from side to side. "Most don't even survive my babies."

"You're the one that sent those robots after us," Black Canary stated, shifting into a fighting stance, eyes focused on their new foe. "Why?"

"Why would anyone send an army of mechanized scorpions after someone?" the woman replied snarkily. "To kill you, bimbo."

She then shifted her own stance, bringing her legs together, one behind the other. Holding her arms out as she leaned forward, revealing a generous amount of cleavage, she then said, "I am Scorpiana and that will be the last name any of you hear."

Oh, c'mon! Scorpiana? Really? She couldn't have found a better gimmick than that? The Talons had an owl motif, which gave them a rather badass uniform. The Man-Bats were literally giant, terrifying bats. The Demon's Fang were more simplistic in their design, but that didn't make them any less deadly. But a scorpion? While deadly in their own right, designing a costume after them was not at all pragmatic.

"BC, Manhunter," Huntress called out as she took a step towards this ridiculously-dressed woman, causing the three of them to look towards her. "Stay out of this. I've got her."

"You? By yourself?" Scorpiana scoffed as she turned to fully face the purple-clad vigilante, placing her hands on her hips. "You're better off having all three of you attack me at once. That way you at least stand a chance."

In response, Huntress pulled out her own bo staff, along with her crossbow. Scorpiana seemed to perk up at this. "Oh, I see you're going to come all out. Well then, I believe I can—"

Abruptly, Huntress tossed her weapons aside, each one landed on opposite sides of the alley. "I don't need any weapons to handle you," she proclaimed.

Scorpiana scowled. "You're going to wish you kept them."

And then she lunged at the dark-haired woman. Huntress just shifted into a defensive stance, waiting for the first strike to come. Planting a foot down especially hard, Scorpiana leaned to one side as she snapped her other leg at the vigilante. Huntress twisted her body to one side, avoiding the kick, a hand shooting up to that her hand pressed against the calf muscle, ensuring the leg didn't suddenly swing at her.

Immediately, Scorpiana drew it back, dropping her foot to the ground. Immediately, she followed up with a punch for the dark-haired woman's face, to which she performed a block with one arm, the hand of her other hand pressing up against her own arm for support.

Then Huntress pivoted towards her opponent until her profile was to her. Balling up the hand that was bracing her blocking arm, she then swung it out, performing a backhand blow that nailed Scorpiana against her face. The woman cried out from the hit, stumbling back a step as both of her hands shot to her face.

"You bitch!" the light blue-clad woman snarled as she glared at her. "You hit my face! I'll kill you for that!"

She then lunged again, only this time the tail on the back of her head moved as well. The tip swung up to hover just above the woman's shoulder before it lashed out, shooting right for Huntress' face. Jerking herself to a side, Huntress dodged the attack, only to throw both of her arms out and grab onto the extended tail. Bracing her legs, she then pulled as hard as she could on the tail, twisting to one side. Letting out a cry of surprise as she was pulled right off the ground, Scorpiana swung around Huntress as she continued to spin around and around. Letting go of the tail after a couple of spins, Huntress sent the woman flying through the air until she collided with the wall of the alley, bouncing off of it and landing on the ground in a heap.

There were a couple of claps then. "Nicely done," Manhunter congratulated her from behind her.

A smirk appeared on Huntress' face as she raised a hand and gave a little wave. "A few more seconds of your time, ladies," she called back to them.

"We'll be timing you," Black Canary responded.

By then, Scorpiana was back on her feet, snarling and scowling. "You dare mock me, bitch?" she demanded.

"I dare so," Huntress responded as she began to saunter towards her rather unimpressive foe. "I'm guessing you got the drop on Katana and knocked her out with a quick blow to the head. That's the only way someone like you could take her out. Kudos on you actually being able to sneak up on her, but you really missed an opportunity."

Scorpiana's tail began to coil up again, the tip hovering by her head and over her shoulder once more. "And what did I miss?"

"If you were smart, you would've sicced those scorpions on us so that we were distracted. Then you could've gotten the drop on each of us."

Scorpiana paused at that. "Shit," she cursed under her breath before she resumed her scowling. "I don't care what you think, I'm still going to kill all of—"

Huntress immediately sprang at her foe, cape billowing out behind her. Planting a foot on the ground as she leaned backwards, she performed a side snap kick, swinging her foot at Scorpiana's head. The woman jerked her head back to avoid the kick, then launched her tail at the vigilante again.

Though she stood precariously on one foot, Huntress leaned herself back as far as she could, causing herself to topple over backwards. If she hadn't have done that, that scorpion spike would've impaled her and that would've been embarrassing at this stage of the fight. As the tail passed over her falling form, Huntress shot her hands above her head, her hands landing on the ground.

Swinging her legs up as she went into a backflip, she lashed out with them, wrapping them around the scorpion tail. Pulling as hard as she could, she once more hauled Scorpiana right off the ground, swinging her up above her before slamming her down on the ground on her back.

Releasing her leg hold on the tail, Huntress coiled her legs go her body, balancing herself with her hands on the ground, stopping herself mid-flip. Shooting her legs up as she swung them in the opposite direction, Huntress flipped back onto her feet, back to her opponent, though she quickly corrected that by spinning around.

By then, Scorpiana was surprisingly scrambling back onto her feet despite being piledrived into the ground moments earlier. Screaming wildly, she threw herself at the purple-clad woman, throwing a fist at her fist.

Ducking down, Huntress countered by ramming her own fist into the woman's stomach, knocking the air right out of her lungs. Gasping as she bent over the fist, Scorpiana appeared stunned before her. Pulling her fist back, she then drew it again, landing an uppercut to the scorpion lady's chin, causing her head to snap back just before she went flying backwards through the air. She landed a moment later in a heap on the ground.

This time, however, she didn't get back up. Huntress held her stance for several moments before she began to relax. "I think I broke her," she remarked coolly.

That comment had been made to infuriate the woman seeing as she hadn't taken too well to any of the dark-haired woman's other verbal jabs. There wasn't even so much as a twitch. Huh, that had been...rather easy.

"So, are you two thinking what I'm thinking?" Manhunter asked as she approached the unconscious woman. Kneeling down next to her, she pressed a couple fingers against her neck, checking for a pulse.

"Dump her in the Gotham River and see if she swims?" Huntress suggested.

Manhunter paused at that before responding, "While I'm inclined to give that one a shot, I think we could get some answers out of this one. Like why she's attacking us. Then we can try your idea."

"Sounds good to me," Black Canary agreed. "Let's get her to the Birdcage. We'll make her sing there."

* * *

It had been a surprise to see Starfire suddenly tackle Nightwing out of nowhere. The following explosion gave away the reason for the unexpected action made by the Tamaranian.

And naturally, Red Robin was searching for the source of the explosion. Already, he had a feeling about who was responsible but needed visual confirmation first. It didn't take long to spot the cause of the explosion; it was one of the teens from last night, King, who had an arm extended out in front of him, aimed in their direction.

"Damn. Missed," King commented, lips curled cruelly. He stood upon what looked like a white rectangle, exactly like the one he and the others had used to leave the casino.

Gliding in, three other rectangles came into sight, each with one of the other three costumed teens. Jack had his arms crossed smugly, Ten was cracking his knuckles, and Queen gave off the image that all of this was beneath her.

"Let me guess, these are the guys you've been looking for," Nightwing snarked as he pushed himself away from Starfire, the Tamaranian pulling back while keeping her green eyes on as many of the teens as possible.

"Yeah, these are the pains in the butt," Cyborg agreed, his right arm already doing its transmogrifying thing into a cannon.

Much to Red Robin's surprise, someone else appeared, and he couldn't have looked any different from the Royal Flushes. Brown was the color, but deep sea explorer was the look he had. Also, he was really big, bigger than Ten in both height and width. The green-colored lens over his eyes made look a bit spooky, like a Scooby-Doo villain (damn, it had been so long since he had last watched that show), and the tubes that stuck out of his helmet was a nice touch.

But it was clearly obvious that this wasn't the bandage guy. Could this be…?

"It's that guy again," Spoiler muttered.

Meaning this was the Kraken guy that had been mentioned. Was Nightwing on to something about there being more to this?

The green lens on Kraken's helmet seemed to glare at them all, and showing that the man behind them was a man of few words, he only said, "Kill them."

The metallic, echoey sound to his voice was also a nice touch.

"You heard the man," Jack said, shrugging his shoulders before jumping off his flying platform. His body began to expand and while it slowed his descent, it put all of them on that rooftop in his way. Looked like he was going to try and grab all of them.

A zap of electricity struck him and suddenly Jack shrank back down to size, landing on the roof with a thud while his body spasmed. A quick look to Bluebird gave away who had fired the shot.

"About time it got someone," the blue-haired vigilante grumbled.

Ten gave a war cry, jumping down at Bluebird, a fist held back and ready to meet a suddenly frail-looking girl. Cyborg was putting himself in-between the two immediately, his body braced and ready to catch the attack. Bluebird scrambled out of the way as Cyborg was pushed back, his feet digging into the floor. In his large, metal hands, he held onto Ten's fist without budging. However, Ten had two hands, and one was free to ball up and wail into the cyborg's head.

Red Robin detected someone siding up behind him, a quick glance over his shoulder giving away that it was Spoiler. "What the hell is going on?" the hooded vigilante demanded, his hands held up in a defensive stance.

"Superpowers. Adrenaline junkie teens. You do the math," he responded, scanning for King and Queen. He could see King engaging with Raven, firing blast after blast into a black-colored, magic shield the magic user had raised. Queen, meanwhile, had yanked a fire escape off the side of an adjacent building and broken it down into small, lethal parts. Using it as a swarm, she was directing it against Starfire who was using her Star Bolts to defend and retaliate against the metal barrage.

Who did that leave...oh, Beast Boy was going for a rematch with Jack, taking the form of a donkey and doing his best to trample the fallen teen. Bluebird stood nearby, keeping an eye and holding her taser rifle at the ready. Spoiler was behind him, he couldn't see Wonder Girl or Nightwing, and the latter he felt was getting ready to intervene in one of the fights.

Wait a sec, there was Wonder Girl. She was shoulder tackling King in the back, stopping him from trying to attack Raven. The energy-blasting teen gave a cry as he was sent flying forward and straight into the cloak-wearing teen. Dispelling her shield, she fired a blast in King's front—ooh, that had to hurt.

Hmm, he was forgetting something.

The thumping of heavy footsteps directed the masked teen's attention to the brown-colored, helmet-wearing leader who was charging right for Spoiler and himself. Tensing his body, he waited a few seconds before darting out of the way of Kraken's charge. Behind him, Spoiler was copying him, though a second later than him. Still, Kraken missed both of them and that was what mattered.

Skidding to a halt, Kraken spun around to face Spoiler, the vigilante backing away. Narrowing his eyes, Red Robin slipped out a birdarang and flung it, striking the back of the large man's helmet. That definitely got Kraken's attention, a green-colored lens swinging around to glare at him.

The masked teen gestured with a hand, taunting his opponent with the promise of a fight.

Seemed like Kraken here was an up close and personal kind of guy. After fighting assassins and superpowered criminals who had some long-distance abilities, Red Robin was already in defense mode, ready to go into a run. That was all wasted time as the helmeted man stomped his way towards him.

A birdarang struck one of the tubes sticking out of the helmet, successfully stopping and distracting the man. Red Robin rolled his eyes, Spoiler spoiling what could have been…some kind of fight before it even got started. Nothing for it, he used his unused energy to run at and throw a punch right into—oh, why did it hurt so much?

It was like punching a wall, or maybe Bane. Kraken barely gave any sign he was affected by the hit. However, he was proving to be an easily distracted man as now he was turning back to the masked teen. A second later, and a large fist was barreling its way towards the teen. Red Robin twisted out of the way enough to avoid it.

Reacting quickly, he wrapped his arms around Kraken's larger one, maneuvering his shoulder into the crook of an elbow. Pulling down and pushing forward, he completed a feat of strength and threw Kraken over his shoulder, the larger man landing on the roof on his back with a thud. Backing away, he slipped a hand into his belt and pulled out another birdarang, waiting for the next back and forth.

While slow to get back up, Kraken was nothing if not sturdy and able to take a hit. There was a metallic-sounding snort, and then he was running at the teen. The vigilante waited before throwing his projectile. Showing some ability to learn, Kraken reached out and caught the birdarang, his hand clamping down on it. That would be a big mistake, especially since the throwing projectile detonated and that caused the large man to cry out.

Taking advantage of his pain and distraction, Spoiler tripping his up, striking the back of Kraken's knee and causing him to fall once more. Seeing all this gave Red Robin a lot of hope; this was certainly not a Bane scenario. The two of them could take this guy.

Time to increase the pressure.

* * *

The cockpit to the car was full. Not in the driver seat mind you, because that would've been impractical.

As Batman shifted gears, he glanced to the passenger's seat, where Batgirl sat in Zatanna's lap, both women looking rather uncomfortable. Batgirl had grown some while Batman hadn't been looking, clearly gaining an inch. Or had she always been that tall? The girl was having to lean to one side so that the horn on her cowl didn't jab into Zana's face, who in turn was leaning in the opposite direction so as to also not get poked.

"Is it safe to talk now?" Batgirl asked as she looked at the vigilante. She shifted her butt against Zatanna's lap as she tried for perhaps the fiftieth time to get comfortable.

"Don't squirm so much," the magician complained as she too wiggled beneath her passenger. "You're kinda heavy, kid."

Keeping his eyes on the windshield, Batman responded as a smirk slowly worked its way onto his face. "While you've been solo, some...things have happened at the house. Someone went and dug up the casket of Alfred Pennyworth, the man who watched over me as I was growing up. They've left a deliberate trail for me to follow, which the apartment we just left led us. The man behind it is a former friend of mine, someone that blames me for the downward turn in his life. He was supposed to be dead, but somehow he's alive and has altered his features to look a lot like me. He even infiltrated and ousted me from Wayne Enterprises."

Batgirl stared at him. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"You wanted to be independent and I was giving you space to do so," the Dark Knight answered her. It was a question he was certain she had asked before, but it was worth repeating. "I'm not saying it's your fault, but in a way I'm trying to encourage your decision and I didn't want to draw you back unnecessarily."

"I think this counts as a time to call me. You did with Zatanna."

"I only called her when I suspected magic may be involved," he retorted, turning the wheel slightly so that they drifted into a different lane, passing by a slower-moving car. "She's been helping on that front."

"Maybe I should teach you some magic," Zatanna added. "That way you could help out that side of his investigation next time."

"Really?" Batgirl snapped her head around to look at the magician, clearly interested.

"Not now," Batman grunted at the both of them, which caused both women to return their collective attention to him. "Regardless, I'm assuming you want to help in this investigation now."

"Yes," was her quick response. Then, she hesitantly added, "And...maybe...you can...teach me too?"

Batman felt an eyebrow raise up as he tilted his head to glance at her. "Teach you what?"

"How to...investigate. Be a detective."

Hmm, that was interesting. Before Batgirl had never shown any interest in wanting to solve crimes, so much as put an end to them. Was her budding solo career making her want to round out her skill set? "Alright," he acquiesced.

"I've been doing some work with Huntress and her friends," the young girl added then. "They have been teaching me some things, but I am not sure if it is working. I also have the Oracle woman working on something too."

Was that right? "And what is Oracle doing for you?"

For a moment, Batgirl was quiet before she said, "The other night, we were attacked while I was investigating a dead body. It was a trap for us as these robots attacked us. They looked like blue scorpions, or so Huntress' friends said. I took one of them to Oracle to see if she could figure out where they came from."

"Blue scorpions?" Zatanna repeated as she shot a questioning look from around the girl and at Batman. "Geez, Gotham gets all the crazy stuff and that's saying something since I deal with interdimensional demons on occasion."

"Thanks, peanut gallery," Batman muttered as he again changed lanes. "Did you or the Birds keep any other samples of these robotic scorpions?"

"I think so. Do you want to look at it too?"

"I do. I have resources that Oracle doesn't, so between both of us, we should be able to get a source for these—"

A sharp beeping sound sounded off in the cockpit, interrupting the vigilante. Glancing to the console, he saw a red light flashing. Reaching out with one hand, he pressed a finger against the light, turning on the overhead sound system. "This is Batman," he spoke.

"_Batman, this is Oracle,"_ came the computerized voice. _"I'm calling to keep you in the loop on things going on in Gotham."_

For what felt like the hundredth time, Batman found himself glancing to Zatanna, who was returning his look. This time, though, Batgirl was sharing their look. "What's happening?" he asked.

"_There's been preemptive attacks on the vigilante community. While everyone is aware of your fight at the Amos Fortune Casino, there's been attacks on the Birds of Prey and Batclan."_

"I was just hearing about it," Batman told her. "What can you tell me about those blue scorpions?"

There was a brief silence before Oracle questioned, _"Is Batgirl there with you?"_

"I am," Batgirl answered for herself.

Again, another silence, this time longer before the hacker continued, _"Then I'm guessing she gave you the basics on the scorpion attack. Well, I did some digging and I've found these robots had been used in a few assassinations lately. No clue as to the culprit, but each scorpion sting releases a high dose of Fentanyl."_

"Isn't that a pain medication?" Zatanna inquired.

"_Who's that?"_

"Zatanna's also here," Batman spoke before he directed his attention to the magician. "Fentanyl is a potent narcotic used for pain management. Short half-life, but a large enough dose can induce respiratory failure." He frowned then. "Fentanyl is a highly-regulated drug though. How is this assassin getting their hands on a supply?"

"_Maybe they stole it," _Oracle suggested. _"I'll look into any Fentanyl thefts."_

"How many scorpions attacked you and the Birds?" Batman asked Batgirl as he turned his head to fully look at her.

"Lots," she immediately responded. "They crawled out from all over."

"Then I highly doubt they've been stealing this drug. Most likely, they're getting their hands on regular shipments. That would mean they'd have to be on a list of authorized recipients. Oracle, see if you can get any of these lists and do background checks on all of them."

"_I can do that."_ A pause. _"Now, for the Batclan, they were attacked by a guy calling himself King Kraken, who—"_

Suddenly, she cut herself off. The three sat in silence as they wanted before the hacker suddenly said, _"Batman, I've got a hit on another attack. It sounds like the Batclan is involved and I think they might need backup."_

"Give me the address," Batman immediately replied. "We're in route."

* * *

Wonder Girl gritted her teeth together as a beam of energy struck her arm guard, her arm trembling from the force behind the attack. That King guy was not holding back, not that she had expected him to, but his cockiness was very irritating.

That, and the constant bragging how he was a king and how they should know their places already.

That definitely kept her attention on him, and not the all-out brawl between Cyborg and Ten. Wherever those two went, they trashed everything around them. The rooftop was full of holes, as were the ones in the surrounding area when this one became too crowded. Last she had seen, those two had fallen off a building and vanished into an alley. Likely they were still slugging it out.

Then there was Beast Boy fighting Jack as an...octopus? Both were trying to wrapping each other with very long limbs, the green shapeshifter thinking that eight arms were better than two arms and two legs. Jack, however, kept showing that it didn't matter how many arms you had, it was how you used them, but whenever it seemed like he was getting the upper hand, that girl with the gun tased his ass. Real helpful there, but it seemed like Jack was good enough to keep the whole thing a stalemate.

Speaking of which, Starfire was also in one with Queen. The girl with the...okay, she was not going for the magnet pun right there. It was beneath her. Anyway, Queen had formed a shield out of the metal she was using (how?), and was using a mace...or was it a morning star? Even Wonder Girl got her medieval weapons confused. Whatever, she was holding off the Tamaranian, blocking any close up blows with her shield before either swinging away with her right hand weapon or pulling away to throw more metal.

Naturally, Starfire would incinerate anything that got close, but metal was really durable. Sure it would melt, but Queen would reform it into something wicked looking. So yeah, not going well for Kori, but then she had help when that tall guy Red seemed to know cut in and took Queen down with a blow to the back of her head. He had these sticks and she could see the electricity crackling on their ends. After that, Queen was pretty much taken care of because somehow this unlikely duo somehow came together, with no prior experience fighting with one another, and overpowered her.

Red she had lost track of, but the last she saw of him, he was back to back with a girl in this Raven ensemble only the cape didn't cover her body like Raven's cloak did.

Whoa. She twisted out of the way of an energy beam, scowling at herself for getting distracted. There was still the jerk with the metal skull cap that needed to be taken care of.

"Come on, can't you do any better? Not that you can ever beat a King," King taunted, rolling out of the way of a blast from Raven.

Growling, Wonder Girl attempted to divebomb the prick, but like how Red Robin always seemed to do, he got out of the way while her foot punched yet another hole in the rooftop. She quickly brought her arm up and blocked another energy beam fired at her though her arm nearly moved back to her face from the intense force that had hit it.

Quickly switching, King was firing a blast in Raven's direction, forcing the cloak-wearing girl to bring up yet another shield. When the energy beam had blown up on impact, Raven reformed the shield into her own blast and fired back. A second energy beam from King met Raven's magic and the two canceled each other out, naturally in a Michael Bay way exploded.

This was kinda getting frustrating; how was one guy holding the two of them off? She did not want to give any kind of credit to him being a king. That would be stupid, and if she hadn't been getting owned right now, Wonder Girl would have said Queen was the strongest.

"C'mon," King sneered. "Give me something—"

The universe answered him before he could finish. However, it wasn't an attack from her or Raven that shut him up. It was the large body of a guy in some kind of underwater outfit that definitely needed a better color scheme than brown slamming into King, and bowling him over.

The blonde warrior blinked her eyes as she caught of glimpse of what was propelling the big brown guy; Red Robin was acting like some kind of missile and ramming into his larger opponent's stomach, his jet boots active and rocketing the two of them across the roof. That all lasted about a second as the masked teen's boots shut down and the two of them skidded across the gravel-covered floor and down into an alley, probably to join Cyborg down there or something.

Comically, King laid on the floor, flattened and his eyes wide as he stared blankly into the sky.

Didn't seem so tough now, and while he was in a prime position to get jumped. However, Wonder Girl found herself wanting to see if Red was alright. No, there was no reason for that. None whatsoever. Really, she just wanted to see if whatever he had done ended up with him getting hurt so she could rib on him later. Really.

"He's all yours!" she called out at Raven before dashing over and jumping off the building in the general area that she had last seen Red. Raven might have said something back, but the blonde didn't hear her—i.e. flat out ignored her. Whatever properties her armor held, it kept her from falling too fast and she landed on the ground without causing much of a mess.

Couldn't say the same thing for Red and the guy he was fighting. You could see the small areas of both buildings where something had run into them and bounced off, leaving spider webs of cracks in their wake. Also there was a heavily dented dumpster where something heavy had landed on it.

Nearby, she could see Red Robin on his feet, though she couldn't really tell if he was wobbly from here. Had the fall taken something out of him? There, there was the fashion disaster pulling himself out of the remains of the dumpster. Ah, he was the heavy thing then.

She could see Red taking up a stance, one that she was very familiar with from their sparring sessions. He was getting ready for a fight, even against this guy who towered over him; Red only just came up to this helmeted guy's chest. Taking in the sight, she began to take a step closer to throw her own fists into this.

Her hair was abruptly grabbed and jerked backwards. Teeth clenched tightly, Wonder Girl darted angered eyes over her shoulder and found the thug that Cyborg had been fighting. Next thing she knew, her face was being slammed into a brick wall, the side of the building crumbling around her head.

There had been quite a bit of strength behind all that. However, she could take it; she could already feel metal against her face, the armor she wore acting to protect her. She threw an elbow back and struck something, though nothing gave way against her strike. Wonder Girl was able to pull her head away from the wall just enough to see what was behind her.

Oh great, it was...one of those card guys, and she put an emphasis on guy. Specifically, it was the one Cyborg was fighting and where was that asshole anyway? He should be here, fighting this jackass.

With a smirk, the dark-skinned male taunted, "Sorry, but I didn't feel your girly strength. Gonna take a lot more than that to take me down, sweetcheeks."

And he was a creep too. Well, she knew how to deal with creeps, and right now she was going to pull an old number out, one she had learned when her mom had enrolled her into self-defense classes when she was younger.

She slipped a leg around the big jerk's, hooking the limb with the tree trunk-sized thigh, and yanking forward. The goon gave out a surprised grunt, doing his best to keep his balance while leaning backwards. Her hair was pulled back and with it the rest of her helmeted head. Clasping a hand over a fist, she rammed her elbow down into the jerk's gut only this time with greater force than before.

Several strands of hair were ripped from her scalp, causing the blonde girl to growl under her breath to manage the sharp pain she felt. What mattered, though, was that her creep of an attacker was slamming into the ground, an "oomph!" escaping from him.

About the same time, Cyborg appeared further down the alley, his face lighting up as soon as he spotted the two of them. Giving the metal teen an unimpressed look, she raised a leg up and swung it into the goon's side, kicking him up into the air and flying towards her...teammate? She wasn't quite sure what to call him since she couldn't really call their group a team.

Anyway, she had gotten rid of the trash attacking her and got to watch as Cyborg nailed him, smashing the guy into a wall and causing both to vanish from sight in a cloud of dust and debris. With that out of the way, Wonder Girl was able to turn her attention back to Red to see how he was doing.

Looks like that dumpster had taken more of a beating in the meantime. Trash was now all over the place, the large metal container ripped to pieces and also scattered all over the place. She could see Red jumping off a wall, dodging a kick from a large, booted foot that collided with the brick wall of the alley. One of those throwing things she knew Red to use a lot was thrown, and it sliced through one of the tubes connecting the larger guy's helmet to an air tank.

The helmet guy with the spooky green eyes cried out, a hand grabbing at one of the severed tube ends. Hmm, that must have been something important, but for the life of her, the armor-wearing female was unable to figure it out. Red would probably know and tell her about it later. Maybe.

Speaking of Red, the kid from Gotham continued to hold a waiting stance, one that could shift to offense or defense at a second's notice. It was one she again recognized from their spars, and she tried to pick up any cues that might hint at what he intended to do next.

It didn't take long to figure out that the kid who was both an annoyance and something she wasn't about to say aloud was going to go in for a takedown. He had his guy down or weakened and it was the best time to try and bring it to an end. Anybody in his position would.

But Wonder Girl also knew that this was the time when a person was capable of anything, including turning the tables. She knew that Red had been improving in his skills, but would they be enough to bring this weirdo down? Best to wait and—

Red was going for the head, probably had something in that belt of his that packed a punch, or enough of one to get through that helmet. It seemed like he wanted to go at it from an angle, but why did he have to go for a high angle? See, he leapt up into the air, probably thinking that whatever he was going to do would include gravity or some shit and up the impact. Personally, she thought it was stupid looking; why not do something guaranteed or something? There was no doubt in her mind how this would end.

Except, the big guy in the deep sea gear had responded before anything had hit, shooting out a free hand and snatching Red's arm. The hand that had clamped down on the severed tube released and balled into a fist, soon making home in Red's gut with quite a bit of force. From this angle, she couldn't see the masked teen's face, but his eyes had to have been bulging. Hell, his body was jackknifing, his legs continuing to move forward without the rest of his body before being yanked back.

The helmet-wearing asshole then made his second mistake of the night, the first thinking he was going to get a win this night. Still holding on to Red's arm, he swung the teen into the alley wall and left himself open for her; she accepted the invitation by ramming into him shoulder first.

Though an afterthought, she casually wrapped her arm around the bigger man's one, the one that still held onto Red. With a wrench at the back of the elbow, she bent the large arm with enough force to cause the man's hand to spasm and release Gotham boy. There, her good deed for the day.

Letting the helmeted man skid back, she released his arm and took position between him and the not quite teammate of hers. The lug was holding his arm, rubbing at his elbow, but she had to give him cred where it was due because when he focused those green-colored lens on her, it made him a little spooky. Just a little.

"Why do I have to waste my time with children," the guy growled, his voice colored with a metallic aftereffect.

"You think that's bad?" she quipped back. "I'm about to kick your ass."

Normally, this would be the point where the other guy either would try to reply back, went on the attack, or tried to run. Wonder Girl didn't let any of those happen. Crossing the short distance between them, she gave the helmet-wearing man a strong punch to his stomach, so he could know what it felt like.

Now he was bending over, but she wasn't done yet. Balling her other hand into a fist, she uppercutted him, sending him high up into the air. She jumped up after him, letting the power of her armor carry her up and past him where she readied her next strike. Putting her hands together, she raised them over her head and swung them down, hitting helmet man and throwing him back down again.

Instead of the alley, she had aimed to put him back on the rooftop. She was in no mood to waste more time than necessary. Allowing herself to fall, her armor allowed the following descent to be slow, allowing her time to keep a bead on her unlucky victim.

From her periphery, she noted out the others were trying to chase after the Royal Flushes. After seeing their boss fall from the sky, they apparently did not want any more punishment for the night and were taking off on those flying cards of theirs. The others would handle them; she would take care of this schmuck.

The helmet-wearing man was trying to roll himself onto his front, and so far had only been successful enough to twist his torso around while his legs were calling it quits. Reaching out, she grabbed the man by his shoulder and pushed him back, landing a punch to the middle of that helmet of his and denting it.

Wonder Girl didn't stop with a single hit. The blonde landed a second hit, warping the helmet's metal material, then landed a third, breaking through it. As she tore her fist out of it, she pulled a segment of the helmet off and exposed the man's face. She barely took any note of what he really looked like, instead preferring to land a fourth punch only this time to actual skin and bone.

Now that was satisfying. A fifth and sixth hit were needed, blood starting to stain her armor-clad fist. As she readied a seventh punch, someone came from the side and grabbed onto her arm.

"I think—"

It was that tall guy in the dark colors, the one that Red seemed to know well. Whatever he was going to say, the armor-wearing blonde shrugged him off, pushing/throwing him back and away from her. Didn't really know how she did that; it had been as simple as whipping her arm about. Back the guy went, but he was in good hands since Starfire was quick to catch him from behind.

Back to important things, like getting this seventh punch in. Up her arm went, her fist clenched and ready to fly, and then someone had to break her concentration.

"Wonder Girl! I think he's had enough!" That was Red. and it looked like he was doing better after getting smashed into a wall. Good for him, but he was really stealing her thunder here.

"Give me this one, Red. I need it," she replied.

"He's already bleeding! You need to stop!" She heard his footsteps as he ran up behind her, Wonder Girl grimacing behind her helmet. Just as she felt Red try to wrap his arms around her, she shrugged him off too, really putting some force in her upraised arm to shove him back.

"How hard are you hitting him? I smell it all the way over here!" Thanks for the peanut gallery Beast Boy, but it wasn't wanted.

Back into position she went, her fist about to fall, falling—

Something struck her fist, causing it to vibrate along with the rest of her arm with the force behind it. Her eyes darted away from King Kraken, the sound of something striking the brick of the wall. There, sticking out of the brick-and-mortar was a bat-shaped object, one of its wings piercing into the masonry. However, that wasn't what caused her to freeze in place.

"Wonder Girl, STAND DOWN!"

* * *

Racing through the air, his cape in glider mode, Batman closed in on the scene on the rooftop. Releasing his hand on his cape, he felt it go limp behind him and he landed hard on the concrete surface, crouching down on one knee. Lifting his head up, he glared right at the blonde girl, one hand holding onto a man in deep-sea diving gear, the other raised in a fist. The helmet was broken, revealing the man's bloodied face.

Rising to his full height, the Dark Knight stormed up to Wonder Girl, who was turning to face him. The moment he was within striking distance, he shot his own hands up, grabbing onto armor. With full force, he shoved her backwards, forcing her right into the small roof access, which caused her to let go of her victim, the man dropping into a heap on the ground.

Pinning her high onto the wall, her feet dangling above the ground, Batman barked, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Wonder Girl's blue eyes were widened with shock, fear slowly beginning to show. "I...I…" she stammered.

Batman leaned his face closer to hers, which instinctively caused her to press her head against the brick masonry. "Listen, and listen carefully," he growled at her, his voice dropping into a dangerously low octave. "I will not stand for killing. This man was beaten; you had no other reason to keep hitting him."

Whether it was pride, or teenage petulance, the girl immediately responded with, "But he wanted to do the same to—"

In an instant, Batman let go of the blonde girl with one hand, pulling it back, before slamming a fist to the wall right by her ear. She immediately stopped protesting, her eyes widening further.

"I. Don't. _Care,_" he snarled. "If you kill anyone, I _will_ find you, and I will put you down. There is nowhere in this world you can run that I won't find you. No killing will happen as I draw breath. Do you understand?"

When she didn't immediately respond, he practically roared, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

Finally she replied meekly, "Yes, sir." Satisfied, he lowered her to the ground, her back scraping against the wall until her feet touched down. The moment he let go of her armor, it seemed her legs lacked any strength as she continued to slide down, ending up with her butt on the ground, legs awkwardly bent in front of her, and her back still pressed against the wall.

Looking away from her, he saw he wasn't alone. The Batclan was here, as well as Red Robin and his superpowered teenage friends. "That goes for the rest of you," he warned them. Though his tone wasn't as biting, it still brokered no disagreement. "Killing is easy, it's simple, and seductive. When you kill a man, you aren't just killing them; you're killing everything they can become and everyone that follows them. It's life altering on a massive scale. Men like him," at this he gestured to Wonder Girl's fallen victim, "are rarely alone. They have families and friends. These are people that respect if not worship him. And they will seek the same bloody vengeance. It's a mad cycle that has to stop and if you don't break that cycle, then no one will."

He looked from face to face, from Raven's blank stare, to Cyborg and Beast Boy's wide-eyed innocence, to Starfire's forlorn expression, seeing if his words were reaching them. He could see Bluebird and Spoiler soaking in his message, stunned at first, but then strengthening their resolve, to incorporate what they learned. Nightwing was grimacing, if only because of his pity towards the younger fighters. If anything, he already knew this lesson.

Finally, he glanced to Red Robin, Batman putting his sole focus on him. "I don't know why you're still in Gotham, especially after I told you to leave. You have officially used up my patience. Get out of Gotham, or the next time we meet, I _will_ take you down. I don't care what your reason is; I don't care your intent. You will go down hard, the same as your friends. One way or another, I'll ensure all of you will leave Gotham. Whether you're walking, or going on a stretcher is not my concern."

Seeing Red Robin shrink in on himself, Batman was certain he had gotten his message across. He glanced one last time at Wonder Girl to make sure she heard his message as well. Turning his attention to Nightwing, who was being supported by Starfire, he said in a calmer tone, "See to it this man gets medical attention."

Nightwing slowly nodded his affirmation. "You got it."

Spinning around, cape billowing out behind him, Batman made to leave the rooftop, hesitating slightly at the sight of Zatanna and Batgirl standing at the edge of the roof. There was an astonished look on the magician's face, Batgirl's own being hidden by her mask. He ignored their stares as he walked towards them, not breaking stride as he moved between them, forcing the women to step to one side to allow him passage.

Despite his lecture, the vigilante could still feel himself seething. While he himself had done some questionable things, he was certain Wonder Girl had every intention of beating that bloody, bleeding man to death. Why, he wasn't certain, but the very sight of it had unleashed a dark outrage within him. It burned and seared at him still.

A part of it was admittedly the continued presence of Red Robin and his team. He had ordered them to leave and they had ignored him. It wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, but none of those prior times had involved someone like Hush. Any antagonisms on their part towards his former friend and the consequences would be more dire than an exposed identity, or a severed spine.

Hush had no problem with striking at a man's sensitive places. Nothing would stop him from exacting the maximum amount of pain and suffering possible.

For once, Batman would protect others the way he always threatened he would. Even if that meant bodily harm to teenagers, it was better they limped their way home then get sent back in a body bag.

* * *

FlackAttack: Yeah, that's the part about law enforcement you don't get to see a lot. Heck, at least in Batman media, one most will have seen would have been in _The Dark Knight_ where Gordon's wife is informed of his death. Much of that drama was skipped over, but there is so much emotion in one of these things. I couldn't resist doing that scene personally. Plus, you get a lot of material from true crime books on how to do this kind of scene. Also, funny how you bring up _Scooby Doo_…


	14. Breaking House Rules

Breaking House Rules

That had happened. At least Red Robin was able to herd his "friends" back to the boat where hopefully he would finally be able to obey Batman's command and get out of town. He still felt the burn from that scolding.

It didn't help that he had been fully expecting such a thing since the others had been so determined to stay. His hope that they could take care of things quickly had been dashed, especially since barely twenty four hours after the first warning the second one had come. The second warning had been so much worse than the first.

And it didn't help that a certain duo were really getting on his last nerve by still talking about it.

"I don't think I've ever seen her this quiet for so long. Do you think that's how the bad guys here are after meeting him?" Take a wild guess which one said that. Please, do guess.

"That voice! I so recorded it. I'm thinking maybe doing something like that to my own. That way I can be more intimidating." That was the other one, because Red Robin was not in the mood for naming names of people grinding his nerves.

"Cyborg. Beast Boy. Would you two do me a favor and shut. Up." He spoke through clenched teeth, hands balled tightly into fists. Had his gloves been off, whitened knuckles would have been visible for all to see.

"Come on, lighten up!" the green shapeshifter chided.

"I have to agree with Red Robin and demand that both of you shut your mouths before I do it for you." Wow, an unexpected assist from Raven. Where had that been before tonight's wild ride?

The clomping of his boots on the boat's deck helped to block out the protests from the other boys, but even that drone was irritating Red Robin in ways he had never felt before. This was on top of the burn he felt not just from those angry eyes, but also that deep, growling voice that he had only known the Batman to pull off.

How much luck had been used up this night? No matter how much it was, he had no intention of pressing it any further. At long last, they were leaving Gotham before the Dark Knight decided that threats weren't enough and action would need to be taken. The masked teen had a feeling that broken bones would be involved somehow.

"Get those engines ready. I don't care what you did to them, get them running now," he ordered. "We're not gonna wait for daylight, were leaving now."

"But things are getting so interesting—"

"Do you know how lucky we are to still be standing?" Red Robin roared, his patience finally broken as he spun on his heel and faced the other teens. Marching up to the nearest one, which happened to be Beast Boy incidentally, he continued, "He's not joking about the damn stretcher. He knows exactly how to hurt us all and make sure it's painful. There's no doubt in my mind that if we keep pressing it, the next time will end badly, there will be no warnings, just Batman kicking all of our asses."

He could practically sense someone opening their mouth to say something or retort. Because both of the guys were in his line of sight, he could conclude that it was either Raven or Wonder Girl who were about to pipe up. His bet was on Raven, because Wonder Girl had been very quiet this whole time, uncharacteristically so.

So he cut off the response. "I am not over-exaggerating. I've heard from his own mouth how he was trained by one of the world's best assassins. Not only that, those same assassins had him brainwashed and ordered him to try and kill and Justice League and he nearly succeeded. If he can take those guys on, we're chump change. Odds are, he already knows how to take each and every single one of us down."

"Dude," Beast Boy gasped, wide eyed. "When did this happen?"

"I didn't stick around to ask that and right now, I don't really care. So everyone's going to keep their butts on this boat and stay here until we're back in Jump," he snapped, pulling away from the shapeshifter to head for the bridge.

As he passed by Wonder Girl, he came to a stop. It wasn't because he had anything he wanted to say at the moment but because she happened to say something that only ticked him off further.

"Red, do you think you could chill a little?"

It took an effort not to let his face twist with rage. Okay, it was more than an effort, it was an active force of pure will. The past couple days had really taken their toll, what with trying to keep together a group of differing and sometimes conflicting personalities, complete with different levels of stubbornness and, let's just admit it, stupidity. Combine that with the roasting reprimands from a man he deeply respected (and also idolized though to a lesser extent than two certain idiots), and you had a perfect storm of fury that needed to be released and had just found a target.

With a single sharp eye, he glared at the blonde from the corner of his eye. "Maybe I will, once you explain what happened back there."

His frustration mounted when he received a frown, one not born of irritation, of which he was very familiar from this girl, but of confusion. "Back where?"

"You know. The guy you tried to punch your fist through his face."

"Oh. Forgive me from saving your scrawny butt back there. Last I checked, that guy was trying to kill you and those friends of yours." Wonder Girl was scowling, crossing her arms over her chest.

Red Robin grimaced, recalling how Kraken's beefy fist had struck him in the stomach, forcing all the air out of his lungs. Definitely not one of his better moments and going all in on that jump had been a rookie mistake. He could and would and was going to admit to that.

"Yeah, it was stupid of me to go all in on that." That got a look of surprise from the amazon-inspired fighter. "I'm not going to excuse it. But whatever thanks I could give, right now, is nearly cancelled out by you trying to kill that guy."

"I wasn't trying to kill him, just teach him a lesson, alright?" The blonde girl rolled her eyes but redirected her gaze away from the teen vigilante. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, giving the impression that she did not want to have this discussion.

"What kind of lesson?" the masked teen demanded, turning fully to face the red and gold teenaged girl. "What could punching that man that many times teach?"

"First of all, I had to break through that helmet first. I only hit his face, like, two times," the headstrong girl retorted, holding up a hand and ticking off each of her points with a finger, extending each digit one at a time.

"Actually, it was three times," Raven remarked, needlessly butting in. Why she felt the need to correct anything right now was not on Red Robin's list of priorities.

"Whatever," Wonder Girl dismissed.

"You don't see a problem, do you?" Red Robin stated.

"What, punching bad guys in the face is a bad thing now?" Wonder Girl snarked. "I've seen you punch guys more than three times and never get your tits in a twist."

There were a couple sniggers from the peanut gallery, which unintentionally egged the masked teen on. However, he was able to put a lid on it just in time. What he needed to say next needed to carry a lot of weight, the kind with enough heft to break through any kind of stubbornness.

"You know what the difference between me and you is?" he said lowly. "I don't have any kind of special ability. I don't have super strength, or magic, or shapeshifting abilities or anything like that. I could punch that helmet a hundred times and barely make a dent. Are you following me?

"And let's remember this: underneath that suit and helmet was a normal guy. A bad guy, but a normal guy all the same. A normal guy, who like _any_ normal guy, can't handle a punch from someone with super strength, and if he could, only a single punch would be enough to take him down. That fourth punch could have killed him. Would have killed him. Didn't you see the blood on your fist? The same fist that's covered in armor? It's already overkill, and you're not holding back.

"Why do you think Batman yelled at you? Why do you think he got in your face? You're lucky, hell, we're _all_ lucky that he showed up when he did, because if he was one second later, you'd be punching a dead man. And if that happened, we'd all be on our way to the GCPD with broken bones and handcuffs, and don't think it would be pretty!" By now, the longer he spoke, the faster his words came out, like some kind of anger-filled verbal diarrhea.

"So forget about whatever they call themselves, forget about sticking around in Gotham, we go, we go now, because our welcome has been more than worn out. We took care of Galtry, and that's the only reason why we all came out here in the first place! Our business is done, so let's leave and let Batman and everyone else who's supposed to be here take care of everything that's happening." There, that was his piece of mind. It was all out there. Time for them to try and argue their way around him. Red Robin was hoping it was all going to stay verbal, but he was getting ready for something physical, and if that meant they hated afterwards, so be it.

He had no more fucks to give about this.

"Aren't you the guy who doesn't know when to quit?" Surprisingly, that was Wonder Girl, and even more surprising was how soft her voice was. You had to strain your hearing to get it all.

"Only when there's no one else," Red Robin stated, staring hard at the blonde teen. "Gotham has more than enough people in it. We're not dealing with the Ravagers, or some Gordanian invasion fleet, and there's no one willing to stand up to them. That's not the case here, and there's someone who really knows what he's doing. The city is in more than good hands and it doesn't need us. We can do more good in Jump than here. So let's do that."

He sensed more that saw Raven come up behind him. "I can sense that you're not telling the entire truth, but I also can see that you're scared." There was a soothing quality to the cloak-wearing girl's voice, one that Red Robin initially stiffened against but slowly relaxed to. "You are right about one thing; Batman is more than capable of carrying out his threats. It would be in all—" she sent a sharp look in the direction of Cyborg and Beast Boy, who for a second looked like they were about to protest, "—our best interests to leave. You can come clean later."

"Can't we just finish this up first?" Beast Boy pleaded.

"Personally, I'm willing to throw you to the wolves, but then we'll have to deal with you and your broken bodies, and I'm not going to play nursemaid. I doubt Wonder Girl will too, and no one knows how Tamaranians take care of their sick, but I'm willing to bet there will be...discomfort involved."

That was enough to get Beast Boy to hesitate. Cyborg put a hand on the back of his neck and rubbed it sheepishly. "Yeah, you might have a point."

Is this what having Raven on your side could do? If so, he needed her on his side more often.

"While I also agree we should leave as soon as possible, we do have one more problem," Raven continued, and now Red Robin had turned enough to face her. With a raised eyebrow, he prompted her to drop what would turn out to be the latest bombshell of the night. "We're missing someone. Starfire wandered off."

Eyes widening, Red Robin took a quick scan around and found nothing but the horrible truth staring him back in his face. Now it was official that his last nerve was split, and he voiced it, loudly.

"OH COME ON!"

* * *

Trussed up with rope and restrained to a chair, Scorpiana looked rather pathetic. Already winning the bad costume of the year award, her slumped form was pretty much being held to the chair, her head hanging low. She hadn't so much as stirred during transportation and being manhandled into the chair.

The Birds of Prey were willing to let her wake up on her own, but the night was dragging on and on to the point each and every one of them was coming impatient. With an irritated sigh, Huntress had had enough.

"BC, how about you make like an alarm clock and wake up sleeping idiot here?" she suggested.

Black Canary glanced at her, annoyed as well. "Fine, but I'm not an alarm clock, H."

"You are now. Now get to it."

"Since you asked so nicely." Black Canary strode up to Scorpiana and knelt down. All the while, the other Birds placed their hands over their ears and readied themselves.

Pursing her lips, Black Canary began to whistle, her Canary Cry coming out sharper than usual. Huntress even grimaced despite the precautions she had taken. That sound could wake the dead if they weren't careful.

It sure as hell woke up Scorpiana. Going from a slack look of unconsciousness, her head jerked up and twisted with pain, eyes rolling up into her head as her mouth hung open in a silent scream. Abruptly, Black Canary stopped and Scorpiana's head dropped back down, only this time she was panting as if she had overcome a great feat of exertion.

Doing her best to ignore the high-pitched ringing in her ears, Huntress got this interrogation started. "Wakey, wakey, wannabe assassin. You've slept long enough."

Eyes darting up, Scorpiana immediately scowled at the purple-clad woman. "Bitch!" she seethed before she made to lunge, only to cause her chair to scrape against the floor. Puzzled for a moment, she looked down and realized just what predicament she was in.

"Alright, enough pleasantries," Huntress said as she placed her hands on her hips. "We've got some questions for you and you _will_ answer them, or my singing friend here is going to obliterate your ear drums, capiche?"

"I won't tell you anything," the woman snarled back.

"Sure you will. For instance, we want to know who hired you. Now, tell us, pretty please, or Canary's going to start whistling Row, Row, Row Your Boat on endless loop."

Because Scorpiana was focused on Huntress, she didn't see Black Canary raising an eyebrow at her. Huntress didn't bother to shrug her shoulders in response because that would've ruined her stance.

"Do your worst. I'm not afraid of any of you," came scorpion lady's response.

"Have it your way. BC."

Immediately, the Birds covered their ears and Black Canary moved her head next to Scorpiana's ear. For a moment, she seemed to pause before she started to whistle.

And despite her best efforts, Huntress could pick out the tune of Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

Again, Scorpiana stiffened, head jerking back as her face resumed its opened mouth, rolled eyes look. Canary kept it up for an entire verse before stopping, which sent the woman into her panting spell again. Waiting for her to catch her breath, Huntress then said, "Ready for verse two?"

"I will rip out your intestines and hang you from the remains of Pioneer Bridge, you bitches!" Scorpiana breathlessly threatened.

"I'll take that as a yes. BC, keep going until her head bursts. We'll time it and then try this again with that King Kraken guy."

Scorpiana jerked her head to look at Canary, a horrified look on her face. "Don't! You can't! You mustn't!"

"And why not?" Manhunter asked as she shifted her weight from one foot to another.

"Because you are heroes and heroes don't torture people!"

Manhunter raised an eyebrow. "No, we're vigilantes, which makes us lawbreakers. We don't have a lot to lose even with accusations of torture. Now, I will admit I do get queasy around brain matter, so I think I'll leave before our friend causes your head to explode."

Scorpiana began to twist and squirm in her bindings, a regular teenage boy's dream. "No, not like this!" she wailed. "Not before freaking Kraken!"

Aha! So she knew that King Kraken guy! Progress at long last. "So what, are you two competing against each other for something?"

Scorpiana paused her writhing for a moment to look at Huntress. "Something like that," she admitted. "The sooner we get done with you small fry, the sooner we get to take on the Bat," she then sneered.

We, huh? So either she meant just her and Kraken, or there was someone else too. "How many of them are you?" the dark-haired woman pressed.

The scorpion lady paused at that, realizing what she just let slip. Manhunter picked up on what Huntress was getting at and added, "I'm betting the so-called Royal Flush Gang is part of this competition too."

It only took a glance to the brunette from the assassin to indicate she had hit the nail on the head. It was just as they thought, all of this was not a coincidence and was interlinked. Now they just needed to get a name of who was running this little operation. "Now's the part where you tell us who hired all of you," Huntress spoke, again regaining the attention of Scorpiana. "You're going to tell us how badass he is and how he'll make us wish we never heard of him, blah, blah, blah."

"I swear, someday soon, I will rip your throat out," the woman threatened. "And I will enjoy watching you choking on your own blood."

"BC, start the second versus," Huntress ordered unimpressed.

"Wait!" Scorpiana cried out as she frantically twisted her head around to stare at the blonde vigilante. "Wait, just, wait. You wanted to know who hired me, right?"

Huntress couldn't help but frown at the sudden change in demeanor. From the rage and defiance, her visible desperation seemed too quick. "That's right," Black Canary answered her.

"I cannot tell you about him, or he'll do worse to me," she said. "But I can say that if you think only me, Kraken, and the Royal Flush Gang are involved...then you're sorely mistaken."

Before any of the Birds could process those words, an explosion rang out, a powerful tremor shaking the entire room. Immediately, all of the Birds reached to the nearest stable surface to help steady them. "What the hell was that?!" Manhunter exclaimed.

"It came from the other room," Katana said before she whirled around to the door. Grabbing the door knob, she twisted it and swung the door open.

From where she stood, Huntress could see right through the doorway and she could see the smoke and flames. A bunch of the smoke poured through the doorway and entered their little interrogation room.

Then, emerging through the smoke were several men, ones that dressed like they were gladiators, or even ancient Roman legionnaires. Each held a shield in front of them, long spears grasped in the other hand. Though the door frame restricted how many of them there were, Huntress was willing to bet there were a lot more.

Then, appearing above them on some sort of litter, was a man in a suit, his face as white as marble, which clashed with his bright red hair. "Pitiful peasants," the man announced, "lay down your arms and surrender to the awesome might of Caligula!"

* * *

"It never seems to get easier, does it? Every time is hard," Gordon remarked as he handed a small, styrofoam cup to Sarah. Unlike the usual offering of coffee, this cup had something a little different, something of the alcoholic nature.

Yes, he kept a bottle in his office, but he only used it for moments like these. Crisis were exempt as well as the majority of day-to-day hassles and operations. Having to inform family members of the deaths of their loved ones, though, always needed a little something burning going down your throat.

Sarah naturally took the cup and gulped it down. "Why is it that they always are tough? Why isn't informing loved ones getting any easier?"

Whiskey was the hidden vice that the Commissioner felt comfortable enough to claim, and one he indulged in by refilling a small styrofoam cup of his own. The burn he felt as the alcohol drained down his throat was more bearable than recalling all the times he had to make those late night visits. Cigarettes were the vice he still felt guilty about, though that guilt came from other people, not himself.

"Sounds like it was one of the tough ones," he remarked. "If you wouldn't mind, care to tell me what happened?"

Slumped in one of the chairs in his office, Sarah gave a groan, one Gordon knew all too well since he had made a similar sound himself before. "Take a wild guess. No wait, I'll save you the effort. They were in denial, it wasn't suicide, are you even doing your job? That."

Ah yes, the ones that chose denial over breaking down. Those were tough, due to the stressful nature of it. Someone was claiming that whatever work you had done had either not been exhaustive or was completely wrong. You weren't doing your job, you weren't looking hard enough, it was right in front of you that a blind man could see this wasn't accidental; he had heard so many accusations thrown at him. Had there been times that the denial had proven correct, yes, but those were few and far between.

It was time consuming, having to go over all the facts and evidence you had gathered to see if foul play was indeed involved. Usually, the commissioner already had his suspicions depending on where the evidence led him. How it was for Sarah, it could be anything. He didn't know all the particulars of the case that was connected to this house call, so he couldn't say one way or another how his wife saw it.

All he could do was offer her some comfort.

"Not that I doubt you, but are you going to go over the case to make sure?" he asked "Do you need an extra pair of eyes?"

"No, no, it's not necessary. I'll go over what we found so far, see if there are any discrepancies, but as far as I can tell, it was a suicide. Some people can't accept that sometimes people we believe we know so well are capable of things we think are unthinkable," Sarah told him. "Sometimes, the people we love are the ones who best hide things from us."

Gordon couldn't help himself; he approached the lovely woman who happened to say yes to his proposal so many years ago, and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. Sarah raised up a hand and placed it over his, the differences in sizes very pronounced as her's couldn't cover his in its entirety. That she squeezed his hand made him feel warm, prompting the commissioner to crouch down beside her chair and place his other hand on her resting arm.

No further words needed to be said. Sometimes, a moment of silence could say so much more than any words could.

"Sometimes, I wish this was part of the job that we didn't have to deal with," Sarah sighed, breaking the silence. "I've been doing such things for ten years, and it never gets any easier. Tell me, does becoming Commissioner mean you have to do these kinds of calls anymore, because I might be interested in the job."

Gordon gave her a grim smile. "Unfortunately, you still have to, only it's to really powerful and rich people, the type who'll take offense to anyone who's not high ranking or have bad news. They also have the kind of pull to make you do things you don't want to do."

"Figures," the stressed lieutenant huffed. "Maybe I should leave that all to you."

"Thanks, your vote of confidence really means a lot," he replied, keeping his sarcasm to a minimum.

"I don't know how you do it, staying on as Commissioner, getting yelled at by unsupportive mayors who at the same time don't want to rock the boat, and having to deal with the sideshow that the Gotham police sometimes become. Yet, here I am complaining about a couple who refuse to believe that maybe their son kept something from them." Sarah allowed her head to roll to a side so she could down at him. He was still crouched and low enough that he had to tilt his head back if he wanted to retain eye contact.

"I do it like everyone else, one day at a time and with faith that at the end of the day, we're better off than when we started that morning." He wouldn't admit it out loud, but there were times when just that thought was all that he had to help him make it through the day. However, he felt the need to add, "It also helps that I have you, and you're so patient with everything."

That earned him a smile, a soft but pleased one. "I forget how you know how to say the right things to make everything better."

"A lot of practice and if you can make grown men with emotional problems believe it, you can make anyone believe it."

Now that got a small laugh. Sarah got more comfortable in her seat, fidgeting for a second until her body stilled. "There are times when I wonder if you're telling the truth or making a joke. For some reason, I think it's both this time."

"You'd be able to figure it out better than me." Gordon took in a deep breath and released it slowly, enjoying the moment. For them, these moments were precious as their normal day-to-day activities were so hectic by nature. To find the time was a blessing.

They would remain this way for as long as they could before duty called.

Duty would always call.

* * *

The drive back to the Cave was largely done in silence. Batman gripped the wheel tightly with his hands, his back practically melded with the driver's seat, though it had nothing to do with the high speeds they were traveling. Cassandra was once again in Zatanna's lap in the passenger's seat, both women sneaking peeks at him throughout the ride.

He expected one of them to remark about the confrontation with the teenage metas. It was coming much like the sun rose in the east. Eventually, it was Zatanna that finally broke the silence, though it was long after they had left Gotham and were on the backgrounds back to the Manor.

"You were a little harsh with them, don't ya think?" she spoke up, finally giving up all pretense and looking straight at him.

"You were there," the dark-clad man grumbled back. "You saw what she was about to do to that man. She all but shoved Nightwing away and ignored the others' pleas."

"And that's any different from what you do on a nightly basis?" The magician had an eyebrow raised with that comment. "How many people have you sent to the hospital with possible concussions and brain damage?"

"Those are the result of quick strikes to the head and you know it," Batman rebutted. "And I only punch someone enough to ensure they're unconscious. I'll admit that sometimes I have to do more than one or two blows, but I don't beat them to the point they sneeze blood every time I hit them."

"You sure? Don't forget, you record every fight you're in. Can you say you've never done what Wonder Girl did back there, not even once?"

Batman tore his eyes from the road and looked right into Zatanna's eyes, only for a second or two since he was driving after all. "Whether I have, or have not, is not the issue at hand. I know how far I can go and they don't. They're practically children, just barely reaching adulthood. I rather doubt anyone has taught them anything on restraint. If I have to be the bad guy and make myself the reason they don't cross the line, then so be it."

"And how much of this is you just exerting yourself on them to get a handle on your own life?" Zatanna leaned towards him despite Batgirl making that a little tough by being seated in her lap. "I've only really seen you so rough and vicious once and that's because you had no control of the situation. Right now, you're losing everything around you thanks to that Hush guy. The way I see it, you're enforcing your will on those kids because it's one thing you can control."

The vigilante had to stifle a growl. Zatanna was really reaching here with her psychoanalysis. When they arrived at that rooftop, he saw a girl ready and willing to cross a line she never should have considered. He had to make sure she never so much as thought of it again and if he had to scare her to burn it into her brain, then so be it.

"Zatanna, I didn't think you would have forgotten what was on that flash drive so soon," he instead responded. "You saw what happens when people with power aren't stopped."

The dark-haired woman looked as if she had been slapped in the face from that response. Batgirl stiffened from the reference to that dystopian future, which was a current factor in their strained relationship. However, if this is what it took to get his point across to the both of them, then that was what he would do.

Instinctively, Zatanna placed a comforting hand on Batgirl's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Low blow, Bruce," she reprimanded him disapprovingly. "But I get it. You think that girl could be the first domino to that Regime thing. While I highly doubt it, I can get the argument."

Not the finishing point he wanted, but he'd take it. After all, they were just about to reach the entrance to the Cave. The door was already opening as it came into view and mere seconds later they shot through the entryway, rushing down the tunnel as the door began to close again.

"Then let that stand as my reasoning," he said as he navigated the soft turns of the tunnel system. "In the meantime, we need to get back on tracking Hush's movements and find where he's keeping Alfred."

Finally reaching the Cave, he slowed the car until it stopped on the turnstile. The canopy automatically slid open and Batman hauled himself out of the car. Batgirl was hopping out too while Zatanna delicately extracted herself from her seat. "I swear, you need to install a backseat," she grumbled as she set her feet down on the cave floor.

Moving around the car and heading towards the super computer, Batman led the way for his little group. Behind them, the turnstile began to rotate, turning the car to face the tunnel, ready for the next departure.

"With the apartment a dead end, we're going to need a different lead," the vigilante said. "If Batgirl has one of those blue scorpions on her, we might be able to use—"

A low whistle interrupted him, causing him to stop in his tracks. The tune it was carrying was slow, melodic, and haunting, and definitely not the result of ambient noise in the cave. Vaguely, he could have sworn it was _Hush Little Baby_. Batman's eyes were wide before he slowly turned to his right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zatanna and Batgirl do the same, a horrified expression on the dark-haired woman while the younger girl had a hand by her belt, ready to launch a counterattack.

Then, appearing into view, came Hush, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he strolled through the Cave. He came to a stop facing the trio, continuing to whistle his tune for a second or two before stopping. "Bruce, you magnificent bastard," he greeted them, a smirk forming on his bandaged face. "I am genuinely impressed. I really mean that."

"Hush," Batman growled as he bared his teeth, taking a step towards the man.

Hush ignored him as he pulled his hands out and spread his arms out wide to gesture to the cave. "Look at this. I mean, really, look at it all. I always thought you were an unimaginable little shit, so I was expecting more of a Spartan military set up. Now, while you do have that, I was not expecting the decor. I mean, you have the Iceman's actual Freeze Gun on display. And there was that Court of Owl mask along with a few of their weapons. And what's with that glove with the syringes? Was someone attempting to be Freddy Krueger while I was gone?"

Batman's eyes glanced away from the man and to the area that was slowly becoming filled with display cases. It was sort of an open trophy room from his many cases. Victor Fries' freeze gun, a mask from the Court of Owls along with a few of the Talon's weapons, and Jonathan Crane's fear toxin glove were in square display cases, viewable onto the cave's occupants. There were a few other things, like Bane's broken Venom control and one of Oswald Cobblepot's weaponized umbrellas as well. Of course, some things were locked away, like the future flash drive and the purple kryptonite, but Hush didn't need to know about that.

Then Hush pivoted on his feet and looked off into the Cave. "Now that brings back memories." He turned back to face Batman and the ladies, stuffing one hand back into his jacket, but keeping the other held out. "Tell me, Bruce, when did you smuggle in the T-Rex from the Cyrus Pinkney Museum? I always wondered what happened to it."

Zatanna twisted her head to glare at him. "Is _that_ where you got that thing?"

"Zatanna, not now," he grunted back.

"Oh, we are so talking about this later."

Hush let out a laugh as he lowered his hand, placing it back into his coat pocket as well. "Truly, I am glad I found this place. Just being here and seeing it has made this entire venture worthwhile; but now I'll be taking it as well."

In a flash, both Batman and Batgirl pulled out bat-shaped shuriken, holding them at the ready. "Like hell you will," the Dark Knight snarled back.

"Oh, you'll actually fight me this time?" the bandaged man retorted snidely. "You hardly put up a fight when I took Alfie and your company. Is this where you draw the line?"

He then leaned his head to his right before rolling it back and to the left. There were audible pops from his vertebra as he cracked them. "Alright, I'm game," he said. "It'll be you, your _whores_...against me…"

Suddenly, Batman spotted movement. At first he thought it was just shadows, but then he saw it again and again. That was when more people began to appear, much to his increasing horror.

Most were dressed in average clothing. T-shirts, pants, coats, stuff like that. However, there were others that had taken more unusual dress. He spotted a man in only a fur vest, exposing his hairy chest and beer belly. There was a woman in a naughty nun costume, complete with lacy bodysuit, thigh-high boots, a nun headdress, and a porcelain mask. A man was dressed like a World War I fighter pilot with flight goggles on his head and a white scarf around his neck. Mohawks came in several different styles, from short spikes to one that was easily a foot tall. Regardless of the wardrobe choices, all of them were armed. Clubs, chains, a few swords, a sledgehammer, pipes, wrenches, you name it, it was there. They appeared like a flood from every nook and cranny of the cave, forming an army behind Hush as he grinned widely.

"...and 99 Fiends."

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, the 99 Fiends are a thing, and yes, they were hired help for Simon Hurt during the _Batman and Robin Must Die_ story arc. I'll also admit I took one of Hurt's lines and gave it to Hush with a bit of a twist. Still, stay tuned for the next chapter as the BatCave gets violated like nobody's business.


	15. Sanctuary Violated

Sanctuary Violated

The roar was deafening. That tended to happen when a hundred people were yelling and screaming all at once. The acoustics of the cave amplified the noise, making it even louder than it actually was.

With a fist sailing through the air, Batman rammed it into the face of the punk in front of him. The man's face seemed to contort from the blow before he was sent flying backwards, crashing into a couple of his friends, all of whom collapsed to the ground as they cried out.

An alarm went off in the vigilante's head then. Ducking down, a fist sailed over his shoulder, a surprise attack from behind. Turning his body, he shoved the back side of his arm up against the extended arm, his elbow damn near making a home in his attacker's armpit. With his other hand, he grabbed the man's wrist and pulled it down hard. This allowed him to leverage his attacker up off the floor, Batman immediately straightening his legs so that he ended up throwing the man through the air, causing him to land right on top of the pile of Fiends that had been previous knocked over.

A shuriken whirled by his head then, causing the dark-clad man to spin around just in time to see the projectile collide with the face of another Fiend. This one had a club in hand and had it raised over his head, ready to hit the Dark Knight. Instead, he was dropping to his knees, hands clutching his face as blood spurted out from between his fingers.

Jerking his head back around, Batman was just in time to see Batgirl flying through the air, one leg extended out in front of her. Her foot rammed into yet another face of one of their attackers, this one a woman dressed as a biker chick. The younger girl landed on the ground at roughly the same time her target crashed onto her back.

Batman then flung himself to the girl, albeit to a spot right behind her. By then, another of these 99 Fiends was rushing her, holding a sledgehammer in both hands, the weapon hovering over one shoulder.

Lunging the last remaining feet, Batman shot a hand out as he held his other bent at the elbow in front of him. He intercepted the man, ramming right into him with his body. His elbow smashed into the man's check even as the vigilante grabbed onto the handle of the sledgehammer, ensuring it wouldn't be used against his ward.

The two men went falling to the ground, the Fiend landing first. Batman, in turn, went into a flip, ending up rolling down his back until he was back on his feet, somehow holding onto the sledgehammer.

Through the raucous cacophony, Batman then heard a scream, one that was getting louder from behind him. Gripping the sledgehammer with both hands, he held it out in front of him, the hammer pointing away from him. Then he jerked it backwards and to his left. This caused the butt of the handle to slam right into the stomach of his rushing attacker, stopping them in their tracks as the air was forced out of their lungs, leaving them breathless.

Letting go of the long, wooden handle, Batman balled his hand into a fist and snapped it upward, the back of his fist colliding with the stunned face of the Fiend behind him. He didn't even need to look at the person to know they were effectively out of commission for the foreseeable future.

Further ahead of him, Batman caught sight of Zatanna. As powerful as she was with her magic, she wasn't using it at the moment. Instead, he spotted her in mid-twist, her hands gripping onto the forearm and bicep of a woman. Much like he had done earlier, the dark-haired woman was leveraging her body against her attacker, allowing her to lift the woman up into the air and send her flying. It was a textbook judo throw and one he had seen the magician use on occasion.

Ms. Hogie would be so proud of her student.

And then, much to his surprise, Zatanna stood ramrod straight, extending both of her hands out in front of her. "Niartser meht," she chanted and a series of handkerchiefs came flying out from her sleeves. The corner of one handkerchief was tied to the next, a series of red, blue, and green clothes shooting out like endless ropes. It was an old magician trick, one meant to make the audience wonder just how long this cloth line was.

And it was these lines of handkerchiefs that wrapped around two of the Fiends, encircling them from shoulder to knee. "Etativel," she spoke as she grabbed the handkerchief extending from her right sleeve with her hand, then to Batman's amazement she swung her captive up into the air. Spinning around in a circle she swung the Fiend through the air until they nearly completed the circle, crashing right into the other tied up Fiend. Both of them collapsed to the ground on top of each other.

_Show off._ Not that Batman was complaining. Whatever helped, he was all for. Twisting around, the vigilante found himself being charged at, a Fiend holding a sword above their head with both hands, screaming like a maniac. Quickly, he hauled the sledgehammer up, holding it horizontally.

That was when his attacker swung his sword, the blade colliding with the wooden handle and going no further. Bending his arms at the elbow to better absorb the impact, he then straightened them out, pushing against the sword and bouncing it back.

Immediately, he reversed his grip on the sledgehammer with his left hand. Angling the sledgehammer until it was vertical to the ground, he swung it downward until the butt landed right on top of the Fiend's foot. The man howled as he instinctively jumped backwards, unable to due to the heavy tool pinning his foot to the floor.

Baring his teeth, Batman then surged upward, forcing the sledgehammer upward until the top of the head slammed right beneath the Fiend's chin. The very force of the blood caused blood to spew out from between forcibly closed lips. Falling backwards, his mouth opened as a couple of teeth came flying out with a bigger glob of blood.

That was when he felt his cape suddenly yank him backwards. Eyes widening, he fell to the floor, landing on his back. Grunting, the vigilante didn't allow his new, vulnerable position get the better of him. Looking upward, he saw two Fiends, both of whom were standing on one leg, their other hovering above him, ready to stomp on his head.

Instantly, he hauled the sledgehammer up, holding it horizontally much like he had against the sword-wielding Fiend. Simultaneously, the two Fiends dropped their feet, both landing right on top of the sledgehammer's handle, again like the sword previously.

That was when a Fiend came running from a side, planting a foot right next to the Dark Knight and swinging their other. The toe of his foot collided with the underside of the sledgehammer's handle, kicking the tool right out of Batman's grasp.

Then, almost frantically, that same Fiend grabbed the hem of his jacket and forced it open, reaching inside to grab the hilt of a knife. Pulling it out, he then screamed as he dropped down to one knee, plunging the knife down towards the vigilante.

Reacting, Batman flung his arm up, blocking the knife as it clashed against the triangle blades of his gauntlet. The two Fiends that had been standing by his head had moved then, one pulling back as the other circled around to the side opposite of the knife-wielding Fiend. This one also pulled out a knife and dropped down, trying to stab him with it.

Again, Batman threw out his other arm, using his triangle blades to catch the descending blade and stop it. Bending his legs at the knee, he then began pushing them down against the floor, his back scraping against the floor. He dropped one of his hands to the ground to better help his crawl, but immediately threw it back up when the first knife attacker tried to stab him again, once more blocking the strike.

Over and over, Batman dropped his blocking arm to the ground as he crawled backwards across the floor, blocking a knife strike with his other arm. The clash of metal against metal rang out, only to be drowned out by the screaming of the mob.

And then he came to a stop. That was due in part to a pair of feet suddenly hovering above his head. Looking up, the Fiend that had backed off earlier was back, only this time he had an oversized hammer, one that fit in better at an amusement park, in hand. He held the hammer over his head, a zealous look on his face before he swung the hammer down.

Throwing his legs up, the bottoms of Batman's feet collided with the face of the hammer, stopping it from smashing him into paste on the floor. Legs bent for a split second, Batman then pushed them outward, forcing the hammer back up. The oversized hammer flew up over his attacker's head and then further. This caused the man's eyes to widen comically before he toppled over backwards, his balance thrown off by his poor choice in weapons.

Awkwardly rolling up his back, the vigilante ended up back on his feet, his cape falling about his shoulders. By then, the two knife-wielding Fiends were lunging at him, slashing with their blades.

Immediately, Batman shot his hands up, the palms of his hands colliding with the knuckles of each man and stopping their strikes. Baring his teeth like an animal, Batman snarled at the two mean before he increased the pressure of his grip on the men's hands. Through sheer will and anger, he crushed the fingers in his grip, mangling them against the grip of their knives. Each man cried out from the pain they were surely feeling.

Flinging both hands away, the Dark Knight took a step towards the two howling men and grabbed each by the side of the heads. Quickly, he forced both men towards each other, cracking their skulls against each other, effectively ending their screams and dropping them to the floor.

Suddenly, a fist came flying from a side, colliding with the side of his face, and causing his head to snap to one side, spit flying out of his mouth. An arm then wrapped around his neck and the dark-clad man found himself falling once more to the floor, landing on his back again.

There was a yell and a Fiend dressed like a sailor was jumping through the air. Gravity set in and he landed right on top of the vigilante, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Shoving himself up off the Dark Knight, the sailor held himself up with a hand pressed right into the dark-clad man's shoulder. Drawing back a fist, he then swung it down, slamming it into his face.

Pulling it back up, the sailor let out another, wild scream, ready to throw another punch. However, that was when one of his legs was yanked upward, causing the man to drop down onto the vigilante's chest, right before he was pulled up into the air. For a moment, Batman saw his attacker hanging upside down, a cable wrapped around one of his ankles.

And then Batgirl came rushing into view, landing a vicious haymaker to the sailor's abdomen, the force of the blow sending the guy swinging through the air like a piñata. Whatever had been holding the cable taut, suddenly let go and the sailor flew out of view.

As Batgirl took up a stance next to him, Batman hauled himself back onto his feet, assuming a stance of his own as his back nearly touched his daughter's. "Thanks for the save," he said.

"Welcome," she replied succinctly.

"Now isn't this just touching."

Both vigilantes turned their heads, spotting Hush through the throng of maniacs. "Back to back, you two against an army—I'm certain I've seen this movie before. Unfortunately for you, Hollywood is bullshit."

"Ignore him," Batman told his protégé.

"Oh yes, tell the girl sweet lies, _Batman,_" Hush responded, his tone mocking at the use of his name. "Nevermind that I have sheer numbers on my side and that I can see you all tiring out."

"He talk too much," Batgirl remarked.

"He didn't say a lot," Batman responded to the girl.

"His mouth is moving. That is too much."

The corner of the vigilante's mouth twitched up. "Touché." However, Hush had a point, damn the man. There was more of his men than them and they seemed endless. What more, he couldn't see Zatanna anywhere.

That wasn't a good thing.

* * *

It had been a long time since Zatanna had been in a brawl. Admittedly, she hadn't been in an all-out slobber knocker as John Constantine would put it, but she had been involved in fights with a lot more people against her.

Problem was, those fights were magic-based instead of physical.

She was pulling out all the moves Ms. Hogie had taught her so long ago, mostly because these punks and thugs weren't giving her any time to speak, and thus no time to actually cast a spell. Ducking as a club swung as her head, she felt a breeze blow through her hair as the club sailed over her head. "Hsif," she shouted.

In an instant, the club turned scaly and slimy in the Fiend's hands, narrowing in his hands as the club's head grew fatter and fins sprouted out. The large fish in his hands suddenly slipped out of his grasp and flew into the face of another Fiend, a wet smack ringing out.

Oh, did she say she wasn't unable to use her spells? She meant that she wasn't able to use powerful spells. See, to get into her bag of super-powerful spells, she had to say longer incantations. Either that or go into full-power mode, something she had few opportunities to actually cut loose with. The October 27th attack was one such time. Right now, she could only go after simple spells, like turning weapons into fish, or flowers, or something a heck of a lot less dangerous. It was effective at disarming, but—

A scream rang out and suddenly, Zatanna felt someone land on her back. She cried out as she stumbled a couple of steps, feeling her attacker dig their fingers into her skin, scratcher at her face and shoulders and chest.

Shooting her hands up, Zatanna grabbed fistfuls of long hair. Oh great, a woman was trying to scratch her to death. Bitch. Yanking as hard as she could even as she leaned forward, she flipped the woman off of her back, attempting to throw her to the ground. It was a testament to how distracted she had been by the ambush that she had forgotten the former club, fish-wielding Fiend that was standing in front of her. Instead of slamming the woman on the ground, she hit her against the man, the man wrapping his arms around the woman before he lost his balance and fell to the ground, the woman landing on top of him.

Thrusting a hand above her head, Zatanna shouted, " Etitcalats llaf!" High above her, one of the many stalactites began to crack at its base, crumbling before it completely detached from the ceiling. It fell, picking up speed until it crashed onto the floor behind the magician. There was a loud _BANG!_ as the point of the rock buried itself into the cave floor, its body jutting up into the air.

There, that should prevent some of those annoying punks from jumping on her back. Seeing one of the Fiends running at her then, a pair of brass knuckles on his raised fists, Zatanna edged back towards the stalactite, her hands held in front of her. At the last moment, as the Fiend threw his fist, she jerked to a side, the man slamming his fist against the rock.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" the man screamed as he immediately drew his injured hand back, gripping it tightly at the wrist with his other hand. Holding up her own hand, Zatanna chanted, "Tsalb." In the palm of her hand, a rose-color orb appeared, glowing brilliantly. The orb than fired from her hand, striking the Fiend where it caused his entire body to stiffen, bolts of electricity dancing all over him as he shrieked for an entirely different reason. Turning her sights away from him as the moment her spell ended, he would be collapsing onto the floor as a smoking heap of body parts, she set her sights on the other Fiends.

So naturally that's when she felt something smack her against the back of her head.

Pain erupted throughout her skull as stars burst before her eyes. Zatanna screamed as she stumbled forward, her hands grabbing onto the back of her head. Eyes squeezing shut, she quickly realized how big of a mistake that was as she ended up tripping over the smoking heap of body parts her magically subdued Fiend made. Falling to the floor, she landed hard, groaning lowly.

"She's down!" one of the Fiends shouted, which was followed by the sound of what sounded like a stampede of elephants rushing towards her. Oh, great, she was so totally screwed. Those Fiends were coming in to beat her into a bloody pulp.

At least, that's what Zatanna thought until she heard screams, only these weren't the ones associated with war cries. Tilting her head to a side, she opened one of her eyes and saw two black forms crushing their fists and feet into various parts of the Fiends. Oh yay, the cavalry had come.

In an instant, Batman was at her side, helping her up. "We've got to go," he barked, not to order her so much as to make sure she heard him. Zatanna had no qualms with that. As she stood up, she couldn't help but hiss from the pain still throbbing at the back of her head.

She would've returned her hands to rubbing that painful spot, but one of her arms was draped over the back of Batman's shoulders and her other hand was grabbing tightly to the forearm of the arm he had wrapped around her back. That hit must have been harder than she thought if she was still suffering it. That was why when Batman began leading her through the Batcave, she stumbled with him instead of fighting him.

Having instinctively shut her eyes again, she cracked one open in time to see Batgirl doing her best impression of a blur. She was whirling around the two adults, a punching and kicking machine. She saw the girl ram a fist into the face of one of the Fiends right before she leaped into the air and lashed out with a kick, one that sent a Fiend falling to the floor, spinning around as he did so. By the time Batgirl had landed back on the floor, she was on the move, attacking a woman Fiend, though Zatanna lost sight of it as the young vigilante moved out of her sight. All the while, Batman lead her through the Cave, underneath the—stolen—T-Rex, and towards a wall.

A wall that had a heavy set of double doors that were opening on their own.

"Batgirl, to me!" Batman shouted as he shoved his hand into one of the pouches on his belt. Glancing down, Zatanna saw him pull out a flashbang grenade and then awkwardly toss it behind him. A moment later and a flash of blinding light coupled with a deafening _BANG_ rang out.

Unfortunately, the effects of the flashbang grenade assaulted the magician as well. While one eye had been closed, the other was open enough to catch the painful flash, which made her squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. Her ears rang from the blast, leaving her unable to hear anything else. She strengthened her grip on Batman as he continued to drag her along.

And then she was being set on the floor, something she didn't fight. Once again, she tried to open her eyes, the pain increasing immensely. Again she sought the soothing darkness from behind her eyelids.

Alright, this was ridiculous. While she was fully aware of how debilitating a flashbang was, she shouldn't have been so helpless. It was annoying. If only she could get rid of the ringing and the blindness…

Wait a second, she knew magic. She could do that at any time. "Erotser em," she muttered.

Instantly, the ringing in her ears stopped. Opening her eyes, she found they no longer hurt either. In front of her, she saw Batman and Batgirl pulling shut the large, metal double doors she had seen earlier. They were physically straining, the doors slowly closing until they finally were. Immediately, Batman hit a button next to the doors, one that stood out on a small computer panel on the wall. In response, an absurdly large locking mechanism moved into place.

They looked like thick metal pipes and multiple ones slid from either side of the odor from somewhere in the walls. They slid into they met with their opposite number from the opposite direction in the middle, locking together.

Yeah, no matter how many people that pain in the ass Hush had, they weren't going to be breaking down these doors. Finding herself some time, Zatanna looked about the room, finding it to be some sort of armory. There was a chair situated in the middle of the circular room, a semi-circle in front of it, undoubtedly some sort of computer station. At even intervals around the room were large cases, some sort of suit encased in each one. Due to the glare from the lights in here, she wasn't able to make out what they exactly were and what they looked like.

That's when the fatigue hit her. As if all of the energy in her body just vanished, Zatanna found herself slumping where she sat. God, she was exhausted. "So, what now?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I'm not entirely sure," Batman admitted as he stared at the doors. Faintly, banging sounds were made. No doubt those Fiend guys were getting over the effects of the flashbang grenade and were trying to pound their way through the door.

"They can't get into this room just by hitting the door can they?"

Batman was silent for several moments, something the dark-haired woman didn't like. Then he sighed. "I made sure to include a number of ways to bypass the security in here in the event someone other than me barricaded themselves in here. None of those street punks will be able to figure them out though." He paused for a moment. "Except for Hush. He's smart enough to deduce one or two ways in here if we do nothing. Regardless, we can't hide in here forever."

Zatanna took another look around the room. "What is this place anyways? It looks like some sort of armory."

"It is," he acknowledged.

"Is there something, anything in here that might be able to help us?"

For a moment, the vigilante seemed to think before he slowly turned his head to look at her. "Actually, yes. I think I can find something in here."

* * *

The Roman Legion was once the most unstoppable fighting force in the ancient world. Their use of tactics and strategy were unparalleled, taking previously developed techniques and pushing them into the realm of perfection. They lost the occasional battle, but more importantly they always won the war. It wasn't due to the decline in their military mastery that had led to the fall of Rome.

Of course, the legions never went up against kickass Gotham vigilantes during that time.

The classic phalanx hadn't weathered the blast from Manhunter's staff, breaking their ranks right at the onset. Several men were still lying on the ground unconscious—Huntress hoped—from the initial blast. Regardless, the rest of the Birds had charged in, taking advantage of the broken ranks.

Planting one end of her bo staff into the floor, the purple-clad vigilante vaulted herself into the air, extending a leg out as she leaned backwards to the point her body was horizontal to the ground. Her foot slammed into the face of a legionnaire, knocking him clean off of his feet, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap of armor.

As she landed on her feet, Huntress immediately crouched down, a couple of spears stabbing into the space her head had occupied a split second later. Spinning around on the balls of her feet, she swung her staff out as wide as she could, knocking the legs out from two, no, three of the legionnaires, which included the two spear stabbers and one guy that just happened to get caught in her sweep.

As they fell, Huntress got a good look of Black Canary. The blonde vigilante had her arms wrapped around the head of a legionnaire, the man bending forward as Canary's weight overwhelmed his upper body strength. In the meantime, the blonde woman had both of her legs straight out, her feet nailing two other Romans, one against the chest and the other in the face. With gravity dropping her to the ground, she angled her body so that the legionnaire she held onto crashed face first against the floor, knocking him out.

"Regroup!" the Caligula guy was screaming, throwing his arms out wildly. "Reform your ranks. You're shaming yourselves! Absolutely shaming! These are merely women, for Jupiter's sake!"

As if that was a challenge, Katana flew through Huntress' view, a flurry of sword strikes all around her body. Those strikes were naturally from her, the Asian wound cleanly slicing through the spears shafts of the legionnaires. It seemed Roman weapons were nothing against Japanese steel.

"Shame this!" she then heard Manhunter shout, which was then followed by another blast from her weaponized staff. An energy beam raced through the air, several Romans diving out of the way. This, of course, left a wide open path for the beam to head right at Caligula.

The man yelped at the rapidly closing blast and dove to a side, the beam flying out of the whole the redheaded misogynist had created upon his entrance.

Standing back up, Huntress held her staff horizontally in front of her. Lunging forward, she rushed right at two legionnaires, both of him raised their shields in response. The dark-haired woman's staff hit the shields, stopping as abruptly as expected. However, Huntress used her momentum to her advantage, leaping up into the air and flipping over the two men, never once letting go of her staff.

Landing behind the two Romans, she crouched down again and spun around, performing another leg sweep that knocked both men off their feet. She was standing back up by the time the men landed on the ground, which allowed her to deliver a swift kick to one of the men's face, knocking him out. Holding her staff vertically now, she then jabbed it downward, an end colliding with the temple of the other Roman, ending him as a threat as well.

That was when Black Canary appeared behind her, pressing her back against the purple-clad woman. "You getting bored of this?" the blonde asked, keeping her hands up in front of her.

"A little bit. I was expecting a little better out of these legionnaires," she admitted. Glancing around, she saw eight...no, make that seven—Katana had just rammed the end of her sword hilt into a Roman's face, knocking him out cold—of these armored guys left.

Seeing a legionnaire advancing on her, Huntress pulled out her crossbow and took air, firing the loaded bolt a moment later. The legionnaire immediately jerked to a side, dodging the arrow. However, the arrow hit its target anyway, another Roman who had his back to the dark-haired woman. The bold struck the back of the man's helmet, causing his head to shake from the impact. Pausing, he raised his hands up and pulled his helmet off, looking at the arrow sticking right out of it. This left him wide open to Manhunter sucker punching him, her fist ramming into his check and knocking him clear off his feet.

The original legionnaire had turned his head and witnessed all of this. Snarling, he drew his Roman short sword and raised it above his head. Yelling, he charged at Huntress, swinging his sword straight down for her head.

Immediately, Huntress dropped to one knee as she let go of her crossbow and grabbed onto her staff. Raising it up, her staff caught the sword strike, the vibrations from the clash running up and down her arms, a grunt escaping her lips. There had been some power behind that attack.

That's when a gloved hand grabbed onto Huntress' shoulder. Swinging into view, Black Canary pushed down on her comrade's shoulder, launching herself at the legionnaire. Swinging a fist, she landed a vicious haymaker against the Roman's face, causing his head to snap to a side. Pulling her fist back so that she could grab onto the strap of his armor, Canary reached out with her other hand as well, making sure she held the man up.

The reason she did this became apparent an instant later. Lunging forward, the blonde woman shot a leg up, bending it at the knee. Her knee rammed into the man's going, his eyes immediately bulging out as he let out a high-pitched cry.

Well, that was certainly one way to take out a man. Smirking, Huntress went looking for the next legionnaire. However, that's when she spotted Caligula running, arms pumping at his sides as he made a beeline for the hole in the wall.

_Uh, no you don't._ Shifting her grip towards one end of her bo staff, Huntress held the weapon across her body before she swung them back in the other direction, throwing her weapon. The staff flew through the air, a circular spinning blur.

Her aim proved to be true as the whirling staff closed in on the fleeing Caligula and struck him against the back of his knees. The redhead cried out as he tripped and fell to the ground, landing on his stomach.

That's when Katana came flying through the air. As Caligula turned to lay on his back, the Asian woman landed damn near on top of him, each of her feet touching down on either side of his torso. Crouching down, she drew up her sword, clutching it with both hands as the hilt hovered by her shoulder. She pointed the tip right at the fallen man, the point hovering just by his throat. Immediately, Caligula froze, staring up at the red-and-yellow-clad woman.

"Call off your men," Katana ordered him. "What's left of them, anyway."

"Who do you think you are?!" the man demanded, spit flying from his lips. "I am an emperor! You are merely a harlot that—"

He didn't say much else as Katana pressed the end of her sword against his throat, digging its sharp edge into his neck.

"—that I believe has a point." Caligula gulped, wincing as the action pressed the sword's edge into his skin more. "Legion," he called out in a higher-pitched, yet softer voice, "stand...down."

If that had been Huntress standing over the man, she would've made him repeat that order, especially louder for the ones in the back. Looking around herself, she found that perhaps that order had been a bit late. Between Huntress tripping the redhead up and Katana putting him into a precarious position, Manhunter and Black Canary had cleaned up the rest of the legion. In fact, Manhunter was holding onto the red shirt of one of the men, lowering him down to the floor while Canary stood there with her hands on her hips.

"The damage to the Birdcage aside," Huntress spoke as she stood to her full height, "I think we've had a successful night, ladies. We've captured two enemies and an army of Romans. I'd like to see the Bat do the same."

"Batman," Caligula sneered as he glanced to the purple-clad woman. "He is but a charlatan and will be smited before the presence of the Gods. You'll see."

"Let me guess, you have a plan to defeat, if not kill Batman," Black Canary surmised. "You do realize you're several months late, right? Bane already tried that."

"I don't know who this Bane is, but he is nothing, _nothing!_ In comparison to the great Charlie Caligula!"

Ugh, this pompous idiot was full of himself, wasn't he? Huntress shook her head before looking to Scorpiana, who had been tied up for the entire fight. "Is he normally this self-ab—"

She cut herself off. The chair Scorpiana had been tied to was lying on its side, the bindings cut through. The scorpion lady was long gone.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Huntress snarled before she whirled back around, storming her way towards Caligula. "Alright, asshat, you made us lose a prisoner. Now you're going to tell us everything she was going to as reparation, capiche?"

"Really? Reparation?" Manhunter muttered somewhere behind her. "Couldn't think of a better word than that?"

"I will not speak to any of you whores," Caligula shot back bitingly. "Torture me if you must, but I am protected by the almighty Jupiter and his son, Mars. Whatever harm you attempt against me will be returned ten, no, a hundred fold!"

"Then they better get here quick," Huntress said. "Because you're gonna wish they were here in about five seconds."

* * *

Everything was going according to plan, or at least the general outline of it. Even with his skills, and that of his comrades, the sheer numbers alone were too great. Add in the open space, and the constant need for vigilance, and the three allies were being pushed back.

Honestly, it was so predictable. Hush had been hoping for more of a challenge. This was the cave, the very place where Bruce launched and maintained his little war on crime. There was no way that it would be easy to seize it, even with the element of surprise in hand.

The advantage of numbers was that there was always someone fresh to pick up where another fell. As per his instructions, unyielding pressure was being placed on them, particularly the magician. He knew that if she was able to get off a spell, a real spell, this would all be over. Sometimes, making someone work to breathe prevented them from speaking whatsoever.

Eventually, this contest led to Bruce locking himself away behind seemingly secured doors, the two women in his company trapped with him. Many of the Fiends were banging at the solid barrier, trying to get in. They could do that for years and not make a dent.

Like Bruce, though, Hush came prepared.

"Get out the explosives, blow the damn doors off," he commanded, speaking as if he was a real general of this small army. "When you drag them out, beat them to within an inch of their lives. Do what you want with the women, but make sure that Batman is still able to breathe. We're far from finished with him."

There were a few cheers while others went to work. In Hush's periphery, he noted how other Fiends were picking themselves up off the cave's floor, recovering from the blunt force trauma they had experienced earlier. Trapping himself had been a poor choice, and it reminded the bandage-wearing man of their times playing strategy games when they were still boys.

Bruce always had a nasty habit of trapping himself, though usually it had been him who tricked the other man into such a situation in the first place. Even after all these years, he was still six steps ahead.

Then he heard the sounds of a commotion. Raising an eyebrow, Hush returned his attention to the large, metal doors. It seemed that Bruce was coming back out to play.

Alright, let's see what the man had in store.

The doors began to creak open, the hinges protesting loudly. Someone hadn't been keeping them well-lubricated. A red light flowed through the crack between the doors, painstakingly growing wider. The Fiends all stood there, waiting with visible excitement.

And then a large hand suddenly clamped down around the edge of the door. Hush found himself frowning. Then, faster, the steel double doors flung open, a rush of smoke pouring out of the room.

By then, Hush found his mouth dropping wide open. What was best described as a large mech suit emerged from within Bruce's little hideaway. With heavy steps, it stomped into the cave, pushing the doors even wider. It was bulky and grey, definitely a humanoid form. Infuriatingly, there was the Bat Symbol displayed on its chest, indicating just who was inside that monstrosity. On closer inspection, the head had small horns, much like the ones Bruce wore with his cowl. There was a red visor over its eyes and to complete the picture, a thin gap was situated right where the mouth was, small iron bars in front of it. Steam blew out of the "mouth," creating an ominous picture.

Then, as if to remove all doubt, Bruce's voice, altered, hollow, yet terrifyingly dangerous, spoke.

"Get the _hell_ out of my house."

* * *

With a swing of his fist, he slammed it into the face of one of Hush's Fiends. The armored plate on top of his fist disconnected and launched forward, revealing the inner workings of the armored suit, adding additional force to the blow. The Fiend took the full brunt of the punch, his head jerking backwards before he collapsed to the floor, unresponsive and unmoving.

As the plate returned to its place, Batman kept his arm extended as he leaned backwards, swinging his arm out in a wide arc. A Fiend was trying to jump him as he turned and the backhanded blow rammed into the man's side. His attacker cried out as his ribs cracked and broke from the counter, flying through the air until he crashed into a couple of his friends, taking them all to the floor.

There was a part of the vigilante that detested this sort of violence. It was an extremely small part though, as these punks and thugs had invaded his home. They would get everything that was coming to him if they were stupid enough to stay around.

This armored suit was built for war, plain and simple. It was an early prototype he had built after his return to Gotham, firmly under the belief he needed an edge against the recently formed Justice League. They knew who he was and their first meeting wasn't exactly the greatest. Feeling the imbalance in their tenuous relationship, he sought out means to even the playing field, such as it was.

This suit was a result of this thinking. Designed to handle any and all environments save the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean, every offensive weapon was created for maximum damage, its defense to take hits from super-powered metas. Yet, he hadn't stopped with this one suit. As the years went by, he built more, ones with weapons designed for specific members of the League. The fight in Metropolis against a Jokerized Superman had convinced him that bigger and bulkier wasn't the way to go and he had sealed away all of these combat suits within the small armory in the Cave.

That proved a godsend as this situation was proving. As he straightened out his posture. Despite the heavy armor the suit was built with, it was surprisingly light. He didn't find himself straining himself as he moved, a testament to his engineering skills.

However, that's when one of the Fiends came rushing in, holding a bat up. He swung it as hard as he could, nailing him against his face. Batman heard the bang the bat made as it collided with his helmet, but nothing more. Standing there, he looked to the thug, seeing the man standing there bewildered as he looked at the dented aluminum bat he held.

Quick as lightning, Batman swung his left fist up, landing an uppercut, aided by the hand plate disconnecting and surging forward, adding additional force. The thug went flying up into the air, sailing over the surrounding mob before falling down on top of them, disappearing from sight.

There would be no holding back. He didn't have to. Zatanna and Batgirl were safely secured in the armory, the women shutting the doors immediately after he had passed through them. Even with Hush directing this mob, there was no way he could coordinate so many people when he was standing right in front of them.

Suddenly, a chain collided with his extended left arm, wrapping around it several times until its end—a hook attached—locked in place. His arm was then pulled down and backwards, causing the vigilante to tilted his head to a side.

Standing some distance away were two of the Fiends, each man doing their best to restrain his arm with the chain. It wasn't a bad idea admittedly, but they were severely overestimating themselves and underestimating him. Without preamble, Batman pulled his arm forward, not the least bit hindered by the Fiends' efforts.

Instantly, the two men were pulled right off the ground, flying through the air as they cried out in surprise. Spinning around to face them, Batman leaned to one side as he held his right arm up at shoulder height. A moment later and both men slammed into his outstretched arm, clotheslining them as their legs continued their forward momentum while their upper bodies came to a screeching halt. Both of them slid underneath his arm, going into wild flips until they crashed onto the ground.

"Is that the best you got?!" Batman roared as he spun around, stomping towards one of the two fallen Fiends. Whether he didn't notice, or just flat out didn't care, he stepped onto an arm of one of the Fiends, the full weight of his suit pressing down on it until the bone was crushed. The man screamed from the agony, the hand of his free arm gripping at his shoulder as he struggled to pull his arm out from underneath the Dark Knight's foot.

Seeing the crowd of punks backing away from his sudden declaration—not to mention his blatant disregard for one of their comrades—Batman took that as a sign that he needed to push this fight forward. Baring down as he crouched, which put more pressure on the crushed arm he was standing on, he then launched himself forward, moving with surprising speed as the Fiends cried out.

Crossing an arm over his chest, he held it there as he leaped forward, bringing a leg up so that he could ram his knee right into the stomach of a Fiend. His knee buried itself in the man's abdomen, knocking the wind out of him as he bent over his leg. That's when he swung out his crossed arm, delivering a backhanded blow to a man and woman Fiend, his arm and fist slamming into their heads and sending them flying away.

Raising up his other arm, he held it up by his head, bending it at the elbow. Lowering his raised leg, he then jerked his bent arm down, ramming his elbow against the back of the bent over Fiend's head, immediately dropping him to the floor.

Shooting that same arm up, this time he held it in front of him, pointing his fist at a nearby Fiend. One end of the forearm plating rose up then, and the prong of a taser fired out. The prong struck its target against the chest and instantly pumped thousands of volts of electricity. The man screamed as his entire body was electrified, bolts of electricity visibly dancing all over his body.

Disconnecting the taser cable, which abruptly ended the voltage, the smoking Fiend dropping to the floor, Batman prepared to perform a side sweep with his extended arm when an attacker rushed in and tackled him, wrapping his arms around his midsection. Of course, the tackle didn't knock him down, but it stopped the vigilante for a brief second.

But then a second Fiend flew in and jumped on his back, followed by a third ramming into his side, wrapping his arms around his torso much like his friend. More and more came, grabbing onto his arms to restrain them, combining their strength to do so.

So, they wanted to play that way, huh? Feeling his arms being stretched out from his body, Batman then pulled his arms out of the armored sleeves. Within his suit, there were two small handles just hovering above his shoulders. Grabbing onto the handles, he pulled down on them.

Suddenly, the red visor he saw through rose up until he was literally looking out of the mouth of his helmet. The body armor disconnected from the hips, raising up as well. Then it body began to spin around in a fast circle, the extended arms acting like battering rams. The legs of the suit along with the helmet stayed in place as the body spun around and around. The rate of acceleration by the suit sent Fiends flying away as they lost their grips, first starting with the ones hanging onto his arms, then the ones on his back, and lastly the ones clutching to his abdomen. By the time he let go of the handles, his suit was freed of his human restraints.

As the suit reconnected itself, allowing the vigilante to slide his arms back into the sleeves, Batman then turned his attention to the rest of the Fiends. All around him were the fallen forms of the defeated men and women, all groaning as they either laid there, or tried to push themselves back up, albeit very slowly. This provided the vigilante with a look towards the back of the crowd, spotting Hush watching with a scowl on his face.

Batman turned his body to face his old foe and began marching towards him. Purposefully, he would stomp down on any arms and legs he came to, shattering bones and causing the Fiends to scream inhumanly. All of them would live, but he was going to guarantee they wouldn't be a full ninety nine for a long time.

That's when three of the Fiends gathered their courage and rushed in from the front. One had an axe held at the ready while another whirled a set of nunchucks around. The third one had a spear of all things, yet was hanging a little behind his friends.

The first to attack was the one with the nunchucks. Yelling, he whipped an end at him, hitting him against the head. The nunchuck bounced off harmlessly, but that was when the axe came swinging at him. Instinctively, Batman raised an arm up and the edge of the axe collided with it. The axe sank into the armor, cutting into it.

Jerking his blocking arm away from his body, which pulled the axe with it as well as that same Fiend, Batman swung his other fist at him, slamming it into his face. That's when the spear-wielding Fiend stabbed at him with his weapon.

Pulling his punching arm back across his body, the vigilante caught the spear, his hand wrapping around the shaft just below the spearhead. Yanking it to a side, he tore the weapon out of the Fiend's hands.

Reversing his grip on the spear, Batman then swung the weapon back, the shaft of the spear colliding with the head of the Fiend, then shortly after with the head of the nunchuck-wielding Fiend, knocking both men to the floor. Raising the spear up, the Dark Knight loosened his grip on the weapon, allowing it to slide down through his loose fist. That stopped the moment he tightened his grip and he then jerked the spear downward. The end of the spear struck the former spear-wielding Fiend in the leg, the added strength of the suit ensure the spear tore right through the man's leg and pierced right into the floor, pinning him down.

Ignoring the pained scream, Batman surged forward. Leaning to one side, he led with his shoulder, ramming it into a Fiend unable to get out of the way of his charge. He damn near trampled over the man as he knocked him down, his feet stomping down on both legs as he rushed by.

That's when he saw Hush again, only this time the man had pulled out one of his guns. He was clearly taking aim, which caused Batman to widen his eyes. He knew the man was an excellent shot and there was only one part of his suit he would be aiming for—the mouth opening of his helmet. Albeit a small target, it was the only part of his suit that offered a way to hurt him, not to mention risk having a bullet bounce around inside of the armor.

So he ducked his head down to further minimize the opening. That turned out to be the correct move as an instant later, Hush fired. The force of the bullet struck the forehead of his helmet, ricocheting the bullet off harmlessly.

Suddenly, the length of a chain flew over his face, from top to bottom. The next thing he knew, the chain links tightened around his neck and pulled back hard. Unable to keep himself up, Batman toppled over backwards, landing on his back. Damn, he had allowed these thugs to get behind him.

Raising an arm up, three grooves appeared in the forearm plating. Out of each groove, the end of a bat-shaped shuriken popped out, an eerie bluish-white glow coming from them. A moment later and the shuriken fired out, whirling through the air until they struck three nearby Fiends.

The moment the ends stabbed into the two men and one woman, one taking it in the shoulder, another in the leg, and the last in the arm, ice erupted from the projectiles, encasing their body parts with ice.

Immediately, two Fiends grabbed onto his arm and forced it down to the ground, putting their full weight on the appendage to keep it pinned to the floor. Three others jumped onto his other arm to do the same thing while a few more went for his legs. All of them were holding him down, using their own bodies to do so.

Though difficult, it wouldn't have been too hard to throw them all off. After all, the hydraulics within the armored suit increased his strength greatly. While it wasn't in the class of Superman, or Wonder Woman, it was more than enough for ordinary people like these.

However, before he could even move, Hush appeared above him, standing to one side as he held a gun at his side. "Really, old friend," the bandaged man spoke as he looked down on him like an insect beneath his heel, "just when I think you can't surprise me anymore, you pull out something like this. You really pulled out all the stops. I must say this little excursion was more than worth it just to see this."

He then moved his gun, taking aim at his face. Batman just stared at him through the visor. "But like all good things, this must come to an end."

"But not on your terms," the Dark Knight retorted.

Hush raised an eyebrow from beneath his bandages. "No, I would say they end exactly as I want."

Though the shadows played with the small exposure of his face, Batman couldn't help the smirk that appeared. He knew Hush saw it when he noticed the man hesitating. "What are you planning?" he hissed, a threatening tone in his voice.

Well, if he really wanted to know. "Sic 'em, Fido."

As some of Hush's Fiends gathered around them, he could see confusion written on their faces. However, the grinding of gears soon echoed throughout the cave, causing them all to turn around.

Hush hadn't taken his attention off him, but that hadn't stopped the bandaged man's eyes from widening, recognition in them. "Oh no," he uttered.

Stomping on the cave floor with a massive clawed foot, the animatronic T. Rex lowered its head before the group and let out a deafening roar. The Fiends all cried out from the sight of the dinosaur, right before it abruptly cut off its roar and took another step forward.

Many of the Fiends scrambled away, but a few weren't so lucky as the dinosaur stepped right on top of them. Beginning to turn, the animatronic dinosaur lowered itself as it swung its tail, slamming into several more Fiends, knocking them clear off their feet as they went flying through the air.

By then, all of the Fiends holding Batman down hand their attentions glued to the raging dino. Hush had even jerked his head around to regarded, his gun pulling away as well. _Good boy,_ Batman thought as he activated a countermeasure in his suit. There was a low hum, the only warning the Fiends restraining him received.

And then his armored suit broke with visibly, dancing bolts of electricity. The electricity immediately seized the men and women grabbing onto him, electrifying them as they all let out screams of pain. On instinct, Hush backed away, shielding his face from the bright, dangerous electricity.

Abruptly, Batman stopped the electrical surge, pushing himself off the floor as he did so. The limp bodies of the Fiends slipped off of him as he forced himself onto his feet. Pivoting on his heels, Batman then lunged at his nemesis, swinging a fist at him. Eyes widening, Hush threw himself backwards, but didn't get as far as he needed. As Batman's fist flew through the air, it collided with the forearm of Hush's gun hand. Whatever resistance the bone had gave away immediately, Hush crying out from the pain he had to be feeling.

Allowing his extended arm to cross over his body, Batman pressed forward with his momentum, lowering a shoulder, which he rammed right into Hush's abdomen. The force of the hit sent the man flying backwards through the air, crashing into and through several of his Fiends until he landed on the floor.

However, that still left several Fiends standing, or lying between him and his former friend. No way was the Dark Knight going to allow the man a chance to escape him, not when he had the upper hand. Around his waist was a utility belt, one lined with several metal pouches. Due to the bulkiness of the armor, there was no way he could fit his hand into the any of the pouches, so they came off as decorative than anything.

Yet, that didn't mean they were completely useless. Lowering a hand by one of the pouches, magnets built into the pouch and the palm of the hand reacted to each other. Each magnet was of the same polarity, which caused both to push against each other. Holding his arm in place, the pouch opened then, revealing a concussion detonator, one that popped out and landed right in his hand.

Activating it, Batman then tossed it through the air underhanded. He watched the canister vanish into the thinning throngs of Fiends, right before a concussive blast erupted. Bodies of Fiends were thrown throughout the cave, some sent arcing high into the air before dropping to the floor while others were tossed aside. The force of the blast slammed into the vigilante's suit, but it didn't even budge.

As he wanted, he saw a clear path to Hush as he was pushing himself up, cradling his injured arm against his body. He whipped his head to stare right at the armored vigilante, who was starting to storm towards him.

At least, that was Batman's plan. While many of the Fiends were distracted, if not fleeing from the raging T. Rex in the cave, a couple were more courageous. And by that, he meant they were still trying to attack the Dark Knight. One jumped on Batman's back, arms wrapping around his head and pulling back as hard as he could. This caused the vigilante to stumble back a step, trying to regain his balance as it was unexpectedly thrown off.

Unfortunately, Hush saw this as an opening. Reaching into his trench coat with his good hand, he pulled out a grenade, one of the same design as he had used at the Amos Fortune Casino. Tossing it through the air, the grenade landed right by Batman's raised foot, which was only raised due to the man pulling on his head.

That was when the grenade exploded, the force of the explosion blowing up on the underside of the vigilante's foot. The next thing he knew, he was being flung through the air, the Fiend restraining him having vanished as he lost his grip. He landed hard on the ground some time later, the lack of a soft surface informing him he didn't land on any one. While that was a good thing, meaning he hadn't crushed a person, it also meant he hadn't taken out another of the invaders.

Wincing, Batman quickly assessed his body for any injuries, finding he was only sore. It seemed his armor had absorbed most, if not all of the critical damage. Lifting his head up, he was greeted with the sight of all of the able-bodied Fiends running for the tunnel he used for his car. Unfortunately, he couldn't see Hush anywhere.

Immediately, he forced himself up. Activating the thermal vision, the view of the cave went dark on him, shapes of orange, red, and yellow appearing in the void. Those heat sources were clearly clustered around the exit tunnel. Searching the rest of the cave, he saw more heat sources on the floor, the fallen invaders that were either unconscious or writhing about in pain. As far as he could see, there weren't any other sources hiding, or looking for another way out.

Shutting off the thermal vision, Batman forced himself onto his feet, sweeping his head from side to side, he searched about the battlefield for any sign that Hush was playing possum on the floor. All he found was what he expected, the injured Fiends unable to move.

Hearing the T. Rex stomping around, pausing long enough to let out another roar, Batman called out, "Sit, Fido," his frustration evident in his voice. In response, the T. Rex began to slow down until it came to a complete stop.

Growling, Batman then dropped to one knee, drawing up a fist before plunging it down to the floor. The ground broke and shattered from the force of the blow.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn! That bastard had gotten away! While it wasn't too surprising considering Hush's knack for escaping tight situations, it was nonetheless still irritating. On the plus side, he was on the run, injured, and would likely be searching for medical attention.

"Zatanna," he called out over the comm system.

The dark-haired woman responded immediately to his hail. _"Did you finally have your fill of wanton destruction and mayhem? I was starting to wonder if you ever would."_

Batman brushed off the sarcasm. "I need you to pull up all satellite footage that you can of the surrounding area. Hush and his men are on the run and I want to track them down any way that you can. They aren't escaping here just to come back again. I want to send them a message they will _never _forget."

"_Well, that's one way to put the dark in Dark Knight. But I'll do it. What do you want to do about the ones still in the Batcave?"_

"We'll get them medical attention once you're done with your search." And by that, he meant he'd have Zatanna teleport them to the police. Gordon would see to it they got medical attention while he hunted down the rest of the so-called 99 Fiends.

And then he would see to it there were zero Fiends left.

* * *

Author's Note: Bet some people were missing that little line from _Rise of the Fifty Daggers_. While no Talons, letting the 99 Fiends get pummeled should be a nice consolation.


	16. Jackpot of Mysteries

Jackpot of Mysteries

Gotham was a far away dream where Corrigan found himself. This wasn't unusual; in any course of any investigation he undertook, there was always a good chance he would have to leave the big city behind to explore all leads he had. Follow the evidence, that's what any good detective does.

This time, the detective found himself in what appeared to be any empty field, local vegetation covering anything. Yes, that vegetation was primarily grass, but that didn't change the fact that it made this place appear painfully dull.

The sledgehammer he had brought with him would alleviate that boredom.

Appearances were always deceiving; that's what years and years this career had taught him. Again, following the evidence and the evidence he had found had led him here.

What was so special about this place? Based on his investigation, this wasn't just an empty field. There had been a farm here, decades ago. Technically, it was more over a century. In fact, it had once been a property owned by the Wayne Family, and sold some time in the 1800s. The people who had purchased the land had been unaware of what had occurred here, and had they, they would have run as far as their 1800s values would have demanded.

It was not what was in eyesight that was important; in this case, it was what was under that had his interest. Tearing through the brush uncovered something that you wouldn't expect to find in an empty field and this time it was a brick wall. It wasn't the typical brick wall as it wasn't vertical but horizontal, and it was inlaid in the ground itself. It was a good thing the sun was high in the sky because the sledgehammer was going to earn its keep.

Nightfall had descended when he finally broke through. Gotham's night life would be highly active right now, but none of that meant anything to Corrigan as he gained access to a centuries old cellar, one that no one in their right mind had tried to destroy but hidden as best as they could.

Sometimes, you really needed to know what you were looking for.

Immediately he felt it. The same unnatural presence that had been in the hidden room back in the big city was also here, but in a much stronger force. Wielding a flashlight to light up his way, he took the earth-enforced stairs down into the blackened pit. The very air was corrupted with it, forcing the detective to put a hand to his face in a vain attempt to filter his breathing. Steeling his nerves, he pressed forward, his footsteps thumping against an ages old wooden floor.

This place had been left in a hurry, what wasn't time sensitive had remained, lying about askew while the rest had more than disintegrated. What looked like to be a dais of sorts sat at the far end of the cellar, and immediately he knew that this was where the sacrifices would be placed. The wall beyond it was the only thing that stood out as this surface gave off the feeling of being twisted. The other three walls retained the integrity of its 1700s construction, but that far wall, that had been where the otherworldly presences had entered this plain.

It was just as Corrigan suspected. There were times when he hated when he was right.

"Ah, great," he sighed, scuffling a foot into the decaying wooden flooring. "Something came through here. Can't tell if it made it all the way through or only made contact. The hell were those idiots thinking?"

The answer was obvious and typically the same: they weren't. Unfortunately, he had his suspicions that at least one person here had done so intentionally and not out of desperation. Probably tricked the others into going along with it, and judging how this whole place was sealed off, the building above it more than likely burned to the ground out of an excessive need to be thorough, it was a combination of desperation, deception, and a healthy dose of greed.

Well, some two hundred years of being sealed away and left to fester taint needed to be fixed and Corrigan would need to do that before he left and put together all he had found out about this.

He was going to need to pull out the stronger, heavier spells if he was going to leave this place, and potential breach in the fabric of this particular mortal plane. He also might need to do a whole lot more than simply cleansing the place. Fire, as pure as it could be, and holy magicks could only do so much. There was a chance the divine might have to be brought in to ensure this location was completely secure from any future incursions.

Hopefully, if the specter he feared was involved had not returned here, then this location was forgotten about. It would be best to make sure that if it was remembered then it would be useless anyway.

Holding out a hand, his brow furrowing in concentration, the detective began to draw sigils in the air, ancient runes of cleansing and sealing. In the air, the arcane marks hovered, casting light that lit up the cellar far better than any flashlight could.

Hopefully someone out there would be getting a good night's sleep because he wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon.

* * *

It had taken some time—more time than Batman cared for—to get out of the armored suit. For some reason it didn't seem like it had taken all that much time to get into it, though he was certain there had been. It stood to reason then that it would take just as long to get out of it.

With Hush and his goons on the run, it was unacceptable to have them gaining distance with every passing second. Without a doubt, these people came in by vehicle, most likely car. The Cave's radar would've picked up any aircraft passing by, much less dropping people off. There was never an alert about that, so car it was. And considering the surrounding forest at the entrance to the tunnel system, multiple vehicles could be hidden from sight.

Unfortunately, there weren't any satellites within range of the manor. That was even more frustrating as they couldn't follow Hush and his men returning to their hideout. It was almost as if luck was going against them.

As he took off the armor, Zatanna and Cassandra were inspecting the Cave. While Zana used her magic to dump the many unconscious and pain-wrecked bodies of the leftover Fiends, Cassandra went to the staircase that led up to the manor to make sure it was still secure. There was no telling how long Hush and his men had been here and the dark-clad man had no doubt his former friend would have tried to do something to the house his family had built.

Finishing off the removal, Batman adjusted his suit on his body, making sure it was in proper placement. With all of the heavy-duty armor he had taken off, any part of his usual armor could be moved and turned, making for an ill-fit. There was no excuse not to make sure everything was in place.

Once satisfied, he ventured back into the main cavern of the Cave, finding Zatanna had long since completed her task. She was standing over by the giant dinosaur as it loomed over the exit tunnel, frozen in mid roar. Seeming of precognizants, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder before returning her attention back to the animatronic.

"So, you stole this from a museum, huh?" she remarked as he came to stand next to her.

"Appropriated," he corrected her, his head tilted back to look up at the T. Rex.

"And why would you 'appropriate' this monstrosity?"

"Cobblepot used it to attack me once. I wanted to make sure that didn't happen again, so I moved it here."

There was a pause. "Do you know how—"

"Don't," he interrupted her. "Alfred and I spoke about it at great length. There's not a single argument you can come up with that he didn't."

"I was going to say," she responded, sending him a glare at his interruption, "that sounds stupid. Like, really, really stupid. Plus, that happened years ago. Shouldn't you have returned it by now?"

He shrugged his shoulders, but didn't bother with a verbal response.

"How long has it been active, by the way?" Zana asked then, when she realized he wouldn't reply.

"The animatronic program was in place ever since I moved it here. I wanted to make sure I had reassembled it correctly. Then I turned it off."

"And that voice command turns it on?"

Well… "I added that after my return from the future. There had been an...incursion into the Cave and I wanted to take some precautions. Putting in voice recognition and an activation program was just one of my upgrades."

This time Zana turned her head and raised an eyebrow. "And what are the others?"

"You really don't want to know."

Whether the dark-haired woman was going to press the matter or not, he never found out. The sound of stomping feet reached their ears, causing both of them to turn around. Running down the staircase, jumping two steps at a time, was Cassandra, uncharacteristically loud. The girl could move around just like him, silent as a ghost, so the fact she was making so much noise was alarming.

"We have a problem," she announced as she reached the bottom of the stairs, hurrying over to the two adults.

Immediately, Batman was striding towards her. There was only one thing it could be and already he could feel his stomach going cold, feeling like a stone settling in it. Cassandra slowed her pace and turned around to head back to the stairs, the vigilante sweeping by her a moment later. Reaching the stairs, he started one step at a time before climbing by two. Then he was practically leaping up them three at a time, leaving the two women behind them as they gave chase.

Reaching the two of the stairs, Batman opened the entrance and came to an immediate halt. His study, it was completely trashed. The draws of his desk hung open, their contents dumped on the floor. Books had been knocked off the shelves, while others haphazardly laid in the newly made space. Checking the grandfather clock, it miraculously was untouched.

However, that's when he spied the painting of his parents. It wasn't hanging from its usual post on the wall, but instead set on the floor. There was a long gash from top to bottom, separating his parents, along with puncture parks all over the face and body of his father.

A sickening feeling welled up within the man. Slowly, his hand clenched into a tight fist, anger replacing the disgust he felt as fury screamed in his ears.

He didn't have to think all too hard who had done this. It had to be Hush. He knew exactly what that picture meant to him and had gone out of his way to ruin one of the last reminders he had of his parents. Violent images filled his mind, all of them inflicting ungodly pain on the bandaged man for this atrocity.

That's when Cassandra and Zatanna caught up with him. Immediately, Zana's hands went up to her face, covering her mouth as she stared at the room. Cassandra just gazed at the room before she reached a hand out and tugged on the vigilante's cape. "This is not all," she told him.

Turning his head to look at her, the young girl then walked over to the door and opened it, gesturing for him to follow. Doing as she requested, he then entered the hallway and found there was even more damage. Doors that were normally closed were open, various contents of the room spilling out into the hallway. Pedestals that showcased busts and statues were knocked over, their corresponding statues lying broken next to them. Spray paint covered the walls, a sight that caused Cassandra's eyes to narrow.

Moving down the hallway, Batman poked his head in a room, finding it looking just as much of a mess as the study. He checked another room, finding the same sight. Undoubtedly, Hush wanted to wreck everything in his life, so it stood to reason every room was trashed.

He was about to head back to the study when he noticed something on the floor. Well, it wasn't something so much as it was spray paint, one that had drawn an arrow pointing down the hallway. Looking up, he found another arrow pointing into an intersecting hallway.

So, Hush wanted to show him something else, did he? Fine, he'd play his sick game. Following the arrows, he soon found himself heading to a whole different wing of the Manor, one the young man rarely used. A large part of it was because his father had appropriated a few of the rooms for his own use, such as a study, a library for his medical books and journals, and one for his own amusement. One would almost call it a Man Cave to use a popular colloquium.

And of course the arrows led him to his father's study. The door was open ajar, which caused him to scowl. Marching to the door, he swung the door open, and much to his surprise, he found the room relatively intact. Considering the damage in the rest of the house, this was a surprising change. Regardless, he inspected the room, searching for anything that had been damaged or disturbed.

As far as his father's things were concerned, nothing had been harmed. For that he was grateful. However, the room wasn't untouched. Towards a corner of the room, the wallpaper had been torn off, wooden boards lying broken on the floor. There he saw a door, one he never remembered being there. Thinking hard of the few times he had been in this room, that corner of the room had always been a wall.

And yet, there was a door now. Glancing at the torn wallpaper and the broken planks, it stood to reason this door had been sealed off and covered. Why? Slowly approaching it, Batman reached out and grabbed the door knob, carefully opening the door wide.

The room was completely dark. Stepping inside, Batman placed a hand on the wall, searching for a light switch and surprisingly found none. A part of him contemplated activating the night vision in his scowl when a bright light suddenly flooded into the room. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Zana holding her wand, its tip a bright, glowing ball of light.

Despite this formerly unknown room, it was...rather empty. It was sparsely furnished with a bed that looked as if it had been built a few hundred years ago, along with a desk, a wooden chair, and a large chest. There was a noticeable layer of dust covering everything, save for a spot on the wall, square, perhaps where a picture had been hanging previously.

If his father's study had been untouched, this room had taken the brunt of Hush's ire. The spray paint had been used all over, soaking into the dust on the walls and floor. Not even the bed and its made sheets were spared. However, on one wall there was a message.

HOME SWEET HOME.

"Home sweet home?" Zatanna read as she stared at the words. "What does that mean?"

Batman didn't respond as he soon laid eyes on a closet, one of its doors wide open while the other was partially closed. Ignoring the spray paint, he walked over to the doors and pushed them fully open. On the floor by his feet were clothes, ones that looked as if they belonged in another time and place. Kneeling down, he picked up a white shirt with long sleeves, removing one of his gloves as he did so. Running his fingers along the cloth, he spoke, "Cotton, in remarkable condition too." Dropping it back to the floor, he stood up and stepped into the closet.

There he found a wooden dresser, its drawers pulled open to reveal more clothes like the one he found on the floor. Not seeing much of anything else, Batman began to walk out when he came to a stop. Turning his head to look back at the dresser, he saw what looked like a crack at one of the corners. It was thin, but if he wasn't mistaken, it looked as if a knife had made it. Kneeling down next to it, he grabbed onto the dresser and pulled on it, causing its legs to screech across the old wooden floor.

Well, he wasn't wrong. Someone had used a knife to carve a word into the side of the piece of furniture. However, it wasn't a recent thing. The carving looked as if it had been there for years. The word itself, he found troubling.

ThoMAs, it read, the same name as his father. Could his father have carved this? Had his father known about this room? If so, why did he have it boarded up? Nothing was making sense here.

"Is this place giving you the willies, or is it just me?" Zatanna asked then.

"I'm not sure what to make of this place," Batman admitted as he stood up and moved out of the closet, heading for the door. Considering how small of a room this was, it wasn't a long trip. As he returned to his father's study, he found himself stopping yet again.

On the opposite side of the room were two doors, basically large closets. Both doors were closed, but underneath one of them, he noticed the light was on. Because the study's light was on, he had failed to notice the closet's light being on as well. At this angle, he definitely noticed it.

Marching over to the closet, he swung the door open and found a fairly typical closet, though unlike the one he had exited, this one had hangers, a few of his father's suits hanging from them, along with his white doctor's coat.

However, there was one hanger that was empty, which had an open suit bag. Reaching out with a hand, he pushed his hand into the open bag, grabbing its zippered edge and pulling it further open. All this did was confirm there was nothing inside of it.

And yet, it was the only bag of its kind. Thinking hard, Batman could only think of one thing that was in the bag. It had been decades by this point, but he faintly recalled a time his father had been putting on a costume. His parents had been invited to some sort of party, a masquerade ball he would later come to find out. At the time, his father's costume had been a black suit with a dark dress shirt. He could remember his father putting on leather gloves, practically laughing at himself with how ridiculous he was going to look, or so he said. Young Bruce had loved the formal cape he had been wearing to care.

And then there was a mask—a bat mask. Something about that seemed appropriate to him. Yet, that was the only time his father had worn that costume, placing it in this suit bag and never touching it again. Now it was gone, taken, and again he had the same question.

Why?

* * *

Kraken was not going to be talking anytime soon. No, this lug got a trip to the hospital, dumped close to the emergency room so that he would be found while giving him and the girls enough time to put some distance between them and their assaulted attacker.

Nightwing gave his partners the rest of the night off, told them to get some rest. There was a lot he needed to go over. One of those things involved having a word with Tim about that one teammate of his, the girl with the Wonder Woman armor. First, that blonde was much stronger than she appeared. Where had Tim dug her up from?

Hell, where had he dug them all up? Sure, there had been the meager descriptions Tim had gave back when the Network had been debating who to send to an all-expense paid trip to Santa Prisca and Peña Duro Prison, but it seemed like his former partner had left out a lot. The cyborg was huge, and he was unsure which one was supposed to be the alien princess. Knowing his luck, the one with green skin would be the Martian or alien or what have you.

Speaking of which, he had noted how the girl—he hoped she was a girl—with the orange skin had been lurking nearby. Shouldn't she be with the rest of her group, you know, fleeing Gotham like their lives depended on it? For some reason, he felt like they did, especially since he had never seen Batman that mad before.

Figuring that some privacy might go a long way, and after making sure the girls got to the bunker, the former acrobat took to the roofs, making sure to pick a building that would give him a good vantage of the city while making sure no one would be able to sneak up on him. Well, at least no one who was Batman. Or Batgirl. Or the magician Zatanna. Might want to throw in a few Birds of Prey while he was at it since he suspected Katana could know how to pull that infamous disappearing act.

Then he waited for a moment, giving this out of towner a chance to make herself known.

Several minutes later and he figured that he might need to give a little push.

"So how long are you going to make me wait?" he called out, arms crossed over his chest. "I know you're watching. You have something to say? Let's hear it."

That prompting seemed to be all that was missing. Floating, yes floating, into his sight, the orange skinned woman whom he had the pleasure of teaming up with earlier tonight closed the distance between them, but kept a healthy amount of space away. Now that he wasn't keeping his eyes on a girl that was throwing around metal, Nightwing could take a real good look at who this lady was.

Attractive didn't do her credit, but saying she was hot just felt too demeaning. His heartbeat was already speeding up, but he kept himself professional. Still, he needed to make a mental note to find out where Tim had managed to scout her out because he felt his former partner was holding out on him.

"My apologies. I do not mean you harm," the orange woman spoke, her voice very polite. It really fit her, to be honest.

"So, what's with the following? Shouldn't you be with Red Robin and the others?" the vigilante asked, doing his best to keep his curiosity contained.

"I trust they will be able to keep themselves safe until I am able to rejoin them. I needed to find out something for myself." She kept her arms behind her back, though it did not give off any impression that she was trying to make herself harmless. It was more charming than anything, like some kind of unconscious quirk.

"Okay. Well, what would you like me to call you? Maybe I'll be able to help you find out what you want to know," he offered.

"How would knowing what to call me allow you to aid me?" the sweet voice woman asked, her green eyes curious.

Okay, he had no idea how she got there...though Nightwing figured he might be able to trace out that logic later. "Pleasantries, really. Plus, I don't think you would like me to make up a name that might be really, inappropriate I guess. It's more for my sake than anything."

"I see. You may call me Starfire. It is a name I adopted when I arrived here, and it is one that I have been told makes a good superhero name."

Probably the cyborg or the green kid told her that. From his little interactions, i.e. observations, those two seemed very excitable.

"I do believe I can see it," Starfire continued, heedless of the young man's thoughts. "You very much resemble Red Robin and I can see where he has received certain traits that he exhibits."

Huh? Alright, now he was officially lost. "Come again."

"I have already come to meet you but if you would like for me to leave to do so a second time, I am willing to do so."

What? Wait, never mind. "What...traits...are you talking about?" There, let's try to keep this on track.

"I noticed during our recent conflict that Red Robin and yourself have a similar but not identical fighting style. Your's is much more acrobatic in nature, which I have noticed my younger comrade has tried to emulate on multiple occasions, for better or worse outcomes. Also, it was clear to me that he defers to you with respect. It is my understanding that you two have known each other for some time."

Despite her speech patterns throwing him off, her deductions led to some accurate conclusions. There was a brain in that pretty little head of hers. That ought to teach him to assure anything by basing it off how someone spoke.

"We have," he confirmed.

There was a very nice smile on her lips. Very nice. "That explains much about his behavior. He does not know this, but I have overheard him mention your name before, your superhero name I assume it is. I can see why he had reason to respect you."

"What about you? I don't see why you lurking around was done for the sole purpose of complimenting me. I think. What is it that keeps you around here? I would've thought you'd have followed Batman's orders by now and gotten out of Gotham," Nightwing pressed.

"Your fighting prowess is more honed than our mutual acquaintance. From where I come from, combat is an accepted part of life and those who are able to excel at it are held in high regard. There is a portion of me that wishes to test your skills, but another is more than content to watch. The way your outfit clings to your body exposes your fitness and hints that you're capable of more physical feats." All of this was said with the most honest expression Nightwing had ever seen before.

It also had him blushing slightly. Was...was she hitting on him? Because he was not going to turn that down. Wait, what was he thinking again?

"Okay…" In his head, he was scrambling for some legitimate response that wouldn't make him sound like a boob. Quickly going over what little he knew about her, Nightwing was able to recall how Starfire's hands had glowed green as she fought that metal-telekinetic girl and thought that might be the best place to start. "You're not too bad with that green light or energy or whatever it is you were shooting. You have skill of your own."

Starfire nodded, either not noticing or being too polite to express any offense to the hastily put together nature of his compliment. Instead, she said, "You both also fall over your verbal speech when appropriately bewildered. It is very amusing to witness."

Not sure where he was going to go with that so the vigilante decided not to pursue it. There was no sense that he was being mocked or made fun of; everything this girl express came with a deep-rooted sincerity that it was difficult to hold anything against her.

"I take it you were one of the more skilled fighters, where you came from," Nightwing said, trying not to get any more...bewildered. He was going to also need a dictionary later.

"Actually, it was...other family members who were the better warriors. I was always the dark-colored domesticated beast though I have been told I am a murderer with my right limb appendage."

Say what…?

"From what I saw, you know how to handle yourself in a fight, which is really refreshing to see," he said, deciding not to overanalyze what she had said. Further thought and translation could happen later.

"I thank you. It pleases me to receive praise, especially from someone whom a friend of mine holds in high regard." Starfire almost robotically bowed forward slightly, as if she was trying to copy such a gesture from something she had seen someplace else. "I will say, you are also very pleasing to observe with my optical organ. I hope, perhaps, we may learn more about each other in the future."

"Yeah, same thing," the dark-haired male answered, struggling to remain professional and not let anything escape that would tell on him. A guy couldn't just give away that he was really, really interested in a girl, not nowadays where you were almost a step away from a sexual harassment lawsuit.

Doing that levitation or hover thing, Starfire floated closer to him, really getting into his personal space. He felt his mouth go a bit dry, and the hot-blooded male pulled his head back a bit. The orange-skinned girl just had that sweet little smile of hers as she got closer and closer and then was side-by-side with him for only a moment.

In that moment, she spoke some words that he didn't recognize as English, words that had her smiling even wider before she began to rise higher and higher into the air, leaving the area.

Wow, okay, that had been something. Whoa, he had no idea really what to make of all of it. Well, alright, there was one thing he could think of.

If he ever got the chance, he was going to have a word with Tim about holding out on him.

* * *

As it turned out, Zur En Arrh was a rather difficult topic to investigate. Even with Talia's extensive network of intelligence, she was barely able to find much of anything.

Her assassins did find that those words were scattered throughout the city. Very few were as big as the one found by Wayne Tower. Most were small and placed almost randomly. Yet, Talia could see a pattern no matter how faint. There was a key element she was missing in the placement of these words and the moment she figured it out, a large puzzle piece would fall into her lap.

Outside of Gotham, however, there was very little. It was frustrating really. Her men were some of the best at espionage. They gathered intel like very few government agencies could and more efficiently than all of them. Yet, there was nothing. How this was possible, she did not know nor did she like.

However, just because she had come across many dead ends did not mean she was out of options. There was one more she was waiting for and if he could not find out what she wanted, then there was some certainly amiss in this dark city.

The laptop computer on her desk suddenly made a sharp beeping sound. That was her alarm that an incoming video call was requesting her attention. The computer was secured with software that only the Demon's Fang had access to. It was how her father communicated with his underlings without any opposing agency intercepting him. Naturally she had such technology.

Striking a button on the laptop to accept the transmission, a window that covered the entire monitor screen appeared, her beloved father's distinguished face appearing. _"Greetings, Daughter,"_ he hailed her.

"Father, it is wonderful to see you," she returned, her lips forming a smile. "I thank you for inconveniencing yourself on my account."

"_To the contrary, I relish a good challenge."_ There was a bemused tone in his voice, telling Talia that her father had done what she had failed to. _"You requested information on this Zur En Arrh, yes?"_

"That is correct, Father. Were you able to discover its meaning?"

The Demon's Head nodded. _"Zur En Arrh's origins is not the meaning of the word, but a place. Off the coast of Guam is a former military facility that has gained a reputation for...experimental psychological treatments. Its existence is largely unknown to most of the outside world."_

Talia had not expected this. Zur En Arrh a location? Why had she not thought of that? "What more can you tell me?"

"_That the proprietor of this place is one Simon Hurt."_ At this, her father's face darkened. _"I was unable to gain much information on this man. He has run this prison—for lack of a better description—for the last two decades. He runs it as his own and rules it with an iron fist."_

This was not too surprising. Yet, her father was not finished. _"In spite of this secrecy, I was able to uncover something troubling about this facility. It seems the American government had funded an experimental isolation program, one designed to break down its participants and make them susceptible to coercion. I believe the United States intended on making more loyal soldiers, or at the very least an information-gathering technique for breaking enemy combatants."_

Talia narrowed her eyes. Though the Americans were leading such research, undoubtedly other nations were interested in such techniques. In her experience, there were no such things as morals or qualms when it came to a country advancing its own agenda. People were mere pawns in a game they hardly understood.

"Were they able to succeed in this program?" she ventured after a moment.

"_It would seem the program was cancelled a few years ago, so I would assume they either achieved their objective, or found it to be a dead end."_

Well that was good news. However, before she could delve further into the subject, her father then dropped a bombshell on her.

"_One more thing, Daughter. While reviewing the program's parameters, I discovered a list of test subjects. One of them was the Detective."_

Talia's head shot up as her eyes widened. Her Beloved? Why? Why would he subject himself to such a program? She could see no benefit.

Taking her shocked silence as a cue to continue, her father said, _"The Detective visited the island shortly after his capture of his nemesis, the Joker, after the destruction of Metropolis. It seemed he spent two to three months' time on the island, experiencing the isolation treatment. From the records recovered, it seems he left with his full facilities in place._

"_However, I believe whatever treatment this Hurt performed on the Detective, this was the desired result. I need more information to deduce a more complete answer."_

Talia numbly nodded her acceptance. It was difficult for her to understand why someone she deeply cared for would torture himself like this. Why go to this Zur En Arrh and...and…

Wait, this facility was called Zur En Arrh and now its name was spread throughout the city. Was it possible…?

Talia immediately looked to her desk. Next to the laptop was a map of Gotham, one that had been used to place all of the locations of Zur En Arrh. Snatching it up, Talia intently studied it, keeping her Beloved in mind.

The puzzle piece she had been searching for had indeed landed in her lap. If she was not mistaken, all of the Zur En Arrhs were placed in locations her Beloved was most likely to visit. The one facing Wayne Tower was obvious, but others, if she was not mistaken, were scattered about in places she knew he frequented during his patrols.

"Father," she said urgently. "My followers have found the word Zur En Arrh scattered throughout Gotham City. It has just come to my attention each one is placed in a location that my Beloved frequents in and out of his mantel."

It was her father's turn to narrow his eyes. _"This cannot be coincidence."_

Talia nodded her agreement. "Also, the body of his former butler has been exhumed and stolen. My Beloved has been chasing shadows ever since."

"_Be careful, Daughter. There is something afoot in that foul city."_

"And it starts with this Zur En Arrh and its architect. Is this Simon Hurt still there?"

Unfortunately, her father shook his head. _"No. He has abandoned his stronghold some months ago, about the time the Detective returned to his city and defeated Bane. As of this time, I am unsure of his exact location, but logic would dictate he has come to Gotham. There are too many coincidences involving his base for him not to be involved."_

Oh yes, she most certainly agreed. Now she had a person to track down, something her Order was most capable of doing. She would give the command the moment she was finished with her conference with her father.

Of course, when it came to her Beloved, nothing was ever as simple as one or two connections. _"In light of what you've informed me, Daughter, I have more troubling news,"_ her father spoke.

"And that is?"

"_As you know, ever since the Demon's Fang left Gotham, I have been hunting down the perpetrators who committed those dark rituals within the city. The Detective's magician friend unfortunately led me down a wrong path in France, but I was fortunately able to further confirm her claim of what dark deity these fools are playing with."_

At the mention of the magician woman, Talia could feel her emotions sour, though she kept her distaste internally. That woman clearly did not like her and the feeling was mutual. She was clearly a rival for his affection and was the reason her Beloved had not returned to her following the fall of Nanda Parbat. Someday soon, she would repay her transgression equal in blood.

"_These fools do indeed worship the deity known as Barbatos, a creature closely affiliated with a bat—appropriate for the city they dwelled in. I was able to track them to South America to a drug cartel calling itself El Penitente. This cartel is known for its ruthlessness and has its rival cartels in fear of its retribution—not an easy task to accomplish. In recent weeks, they have been mobilizing its forces, but not for conquest in their territory."_

Talia didn't need to know where these fiends had gone. It was obvious. This El Penitente had come to Gotham, another level of difficulty that plagued this city.

"Father, I will handle whatever evil this El Penitente plans for this city," she promised. "It is imperative that you squash them out in South America."

Her Father nodded his agreement. _"I will wash this filth off the face of the Earth here. Inform me when you have accomplished your end."_ He paused then.

"_And Daughter? Be careful."_

* * *

FlackAttack: I think this is one of those times where 99 means 99. After all the 99 Fiends work for Hurt, and do you think this guy is the type to corners like that? If he's going to send 99 Fiends after you, he's going to send 99 Fiends after you. Also, I hope the Nightwing/Starfire interaction was up to snuff.


	17. Holding on to a Wild Card

Holding on to a Wild Card

Charlie Caligula had been a wealth of information in comparison to Scorpiana. He was an arrogant ass with a serious entitlement problem, all of which vanished the moment bodily harm was threatened. It helped that Katana had her sword out and was edging slowly towards him with every haughty word he had spoken. The moment the blade's edge touched his skin, he lost his nerve and babbled just about everything he could think of so long as his precious skin wasn't broken.

And that led the Birds of Prey to the Gotham City Dump. With Caligula hogtied outside of the closest GCPD precinct, the ladies had made a beeline to the mountains of trash. Compaction machines did their best to squeeze in as much trash into more orderly square blocks, but their task was never ending.

Towards the entrance was a portable building, the main office for this place. The lights were off and the lock easily picked, but the building had turned out to be a dead end. So now the four were searching the place on foot.

"God, this place smells," Manhunter complained as she pinched her nose shut.

"What did you expect? It wasn't going to smell like roses," Huntress returned snidely, earning her a glare from the brunette. "How big is this place anyways?"

"Not that big," Black Canary answered as she led the group. "The city scaled back on the usage of this place since the city limits began stretching this way. They're currently working to shut this place down and make it more presentable before they attempt to build homes here."

Huntress paused before looking over at the blonde woman. "They're going to build _houses_ over here?"

"Don't be so surprised," Manhunter replied mockingly. "After all, a developer built Paradise Meadows by a toxic waste dump. A city dump won't stop them."

Ugh, that was a pleasant picture. Huntress could just imagine a family of four living out here, the parents scraping hundred year old trash off their shoes as the kids discovered spoiled food and wondered if it was still edible. Huntress sure as hell wouldn't be buying a house out here.

If that tidbit wasn't enough, the purple-clad woman hoped that this wasn't a dead end either. With every step she took, she felt that was more and more likely. Despite being a pansy, that Caligula guy could've sold them a bill of goods that sent them on a wild goose chase. If that was true, then the Birds were going to have to find a way into his jail cell for a more in-depth interrogation.

Suddenly, Katana stiffened, her hand grabbing onto the hilt of her sword. "There's someone here," she spoke softly, her eyes darting from left to right, searching.

Immediately, the other three Birds spun around to look out into the dump, their backs angled towards each other. It should have been four, but Katana suddenly took off, vanishing behind a mound of garbage. If it had been anyone else doing that, Huntress would've ordered them to come back, but the Asian woman could take care of herself.

Silence loomed over the three women as they each searched their surroundings, finding nothing. It wasn't until the sound of gunfire rang out that all three of them jerked their heads in the direction Katana had run off to. It seemed the woman had found someone.

Immediately, the Birds took off running, going around the garbage pile and finding themselves racing along path created between sloping walls of trash. Following it, they soon rounded a bend that opened up into a veritable cul-de-sac created by the refuge.

And right in the middle of this circle was Katana, incredibly enough on one knee, her sword a short distance behind her. Standing in front of her, a gun leveled at the red-and-yellow-clad vigilante, was a woman dressed in a black bodysuit. Long, dark hair fell over her shoulders, covering one side of her face.

In an instant, Huntress had a H-shaped shuriken in hand and threw it at Katana's attacker. At that moment, the woman tilted her head up from regarding the kneeling Bird and immediately jerked back a step, pulling her gun away from Katana's head. The projectile flew right where she had been standing, whirling between the two women and passing them by harmlessly.

However, Katana took advantage of this and sprung backwards, landing by her sword, which she immediately picked up. By then, the rest of the Birds of Prey came to a stop behind her, each one taking up a fighting stance. Manhunter had her staff ready to go while Black Canary had her fists raised. As for Huntress, she had her crossbow drawn and was taking aim with it at this mystery woman, who had pointed her gun right back at them.

"You just messed up," Black Canary said to her, tightening her fists as the leather crinkled from the strain.

Immediately, the dark-haired woman shot her free hand out, making a stopping gesture with it. "Wait, I mean you no harm," she protested in an accented voice.

"No harm, huh?" Manhunter repeated. "I find that hard to believe when you have a gun pointed at one of my friends."

Strangely enough, the woman pulled her gun back, pointing the barrel straight up into the air as she held the weapon by her head. "I only drew because your comrade attacked me first."

Oh, sure, self-defense. Too bad she was making such a claim in front of a lawyer. "Why don't you tell us who you are?" Huntress interjected then, before they got caught up in a rousing round of who was at fault. Obviously the numbers were in their favor, so any fight would go their way.

Haughtily, the woman tilted her head back, as if she were raising her nose up at them. _Bitch._ "I am Talia al Ghul—"

Whatever else this Talia person said, Huntress didn't hear it as her head perked up. al Ghul? As in Ra's al Ghul? Staring at her more closely, the purple-clad woman had to admit she looked vaguely familiar. Thinking hard about it, it clicked a moment later.

When Ra's al Ghul burst upon the scene—literally—he had made a proclamation of protecting Gotham. This was right in front of an army of ninjas, including a woman with a child. In fact, Talia looked just like that woman.

"You wouldn't be of relations to Ra's al Ghul, would you?" she prompted.

Talia raised an eyebrow at that. "That is what I just said, yes."

Oh, perhaps she should have listened to Talia's full introduction instead of zoning out midway through. However, if she was here, then the Demon's Fang had to be here as well; which meant she wasn't alone and had deadly assassins lying in wait around them. So much for them outnumbering her.

"What are you doing out here?" Black Canary asked then.

"Much like you, I would assume," Talia answered as she holstered her gun even as the Birds began to lower their own weapons. "I am on the trail of the people after your Batman."

Huntress couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. This woman was looking into these mysterious attackers like them? Why? She didn't fit in with the rest of the vigilantes, or at least within Batman's code. There had to be another reason.

"Let me guess, you followed your trail to this dump," Manhunter said then.

"That is correct."

"Yeah, and I'm an Oscar Meyer wiener."

There was a slight twitch of Talia's eyes at the rejoinder. "Believe me or not, I do not care. You cannot deny that there is a foul plot afoot. By what means did you find yourself coming here?"

Huntress wanted to say "None of your business," but Black Canary shot a look at her and Manhunter. "You two hush," she shushed them. "She may have some intel that we don't have. We could use everything we can get our hands on." Oh, so she wanted to pump the al Ghul woman for information. Fine, but she would have to do the leg work. "We managed to capture one of the attackers and he sent us here. There are several small time assassins in the city and they've been targeting us and the other vigilantes."

Talia didn't react to Canary's admission. This prompted the blonde vigilante to ask, "And what of you? What led you here?"

It seemed the dark-haired woman was in a giving mood at the moment as she responded, "My people and I have found a series of messages throughout the city, each one placed at a location along your Batman's patrol route. I consulted with my father and he gave me a potential figure who has ties to this place. I came to personally investigate the validity of that connection."

Trust an international assassin organization to be able to obtain a possible perp. "Mind telling us who that—" Huntress began.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and a bullet whizzed by the purple-clad woman, her dark hair blowing about from the wind created by the flying piece of lead. Jerking her head around, she raised her crossbow up, ready to use it.

"Take cover!" Talia cried out before she took off running, racing for a nearby trash pile. For a moment, Huntress hesitated before she decided that wasn't bad advice and darted forward. It was just in time too as another gunshot rang out, a puff of dirt blowing up into the air right where she had stood.

That was when the mime appeared.

It was the most bizarre thing Huntress could ever imagine. A man dressed in a white shirt and a ruffled black collar came flipping through the air. In fact, he had leaped off the top of a mound of garbage, coming head over feet over and over as he fell through the air. Huntress slowed to a stop as she saw this strange man coming close to her, Manhunter coming to a stop next to her.

As the mime drew closer, he lashed out with his legs, timing his duel kicks perfectly as one foot slammed into the side of Huntress' face and the other into Manhunter's. The man was practically horizontal to the ground, his legs spread out in the splits as he delivered these kicks. The force of the blow sent Huntress stumbling until she fell to the ground.

God, she was embarrassed.

Lifting her head up, she rubbed a hand against her bruised and shamed cheek, then sought out the poor excuse for a clown. Instead of standing between the fallen vigilante as well as Manhunter, the mime had sprung towards Katana and was currently leaping into the air, spinning around as he lashed out with a spinning kick. Katana, in turn, jerked herself back to avoid the kick, sparing herself the same shame.

Undeterred, the mime touched back down on the ground and bounced back up, attempting another spinning kick. This time, Katana ducked the kick and darted forward, the pale clown passing over her before landing back on the ground. However, he had an arm crossed over his chest, his hand balled into a fist. Lunging, he swung a backhand blow, one Katana was forced to block as she kneeled down, raising her sheathed sword up between them, one hand on the sword's hilt and the other at the far end of the sheath. The back of the mime's fist collided with the sheath, stopping it.

And then the mime pulled back, backpedaling up a couple steps before stopping, bouncing back from one foot to the other, his hands held up in fists as he seemed to study Katana.

"Now that must be embarrassing." Jerking her head around, Huntress spied another figure, this one standing at the trail that led into the trash-made cul-de-sac. Unlike the silent clown, this man...looked as if he couldn't decide what era he wanted to belong to. A brown trench coat covered most of his body, save for a literal iron helmet from the Middle Ages covering his head.

For some reason, Huntress felt as if they were literally digging at the bottom of the barrel with these assassins.

The man in the iron mask then raised a handgun and took aim. Instinctively, Huntress made to raise her crossbow, only to realize she was no longer holding it. Crap, she must've dropped it when the mime kicked her.

Fortunately, Manhunter was able to pick up her slack. Though she propped herself up with one hand on the ground, she held her bo staff with the other and fired a blast of energy at the new assassin. The man saw the blast coming and threw himself to one side, dodging the attack as it flew deep into the dump until it detonated on a pile of garbage. An explosion erupted, sending trash flying up into the air, raining down moments later.

By then, Huntress had pulled out one of her shuriken and sent it whirling towards Iron Head. Her timing was perfect as the H-shaped shuriken struck the man's hand, knocking his gun out of his grasp as he yelped. Shoving herself onto her feet, the purple-clad woman took off running towards her foe.

Now, Huntress couldn't attack the man's head because it was pretty well guarded by his helmet. She'd only break her hand on it if she tried punching it. So she decided to go with a body blow. Balling her hand into a fist, the moment she was within striking distance, she threw her punch right for the man's chest.

And instantly had pain exploded throughout her fist. Jesus Christ! She just punched a fucking wall! Yelping, the dark-haired woman stumbled back a couple steps as she grabbed at her wrist, hissing all the while.

"Did you really think I wasn't protected?" the man taunted her as he stood up straighter. Incidentally, his jacket opened up and Huntress caught sight of a crude armored plate cover his torso. Idiot, she should've realized this guy would protect more than just his head.

Then the helmeted man pulled out a second gun and pointed it right at Huntress. "Say goodnight, Irene."

He never got a chance to fire. Right then, Manhunter came flying in, swinging her staff like a bat. The staff slammed into the back of the man's head, causing him to cry out as he stumbled forward. Huntress darted to a side, kicking out a foot that collided with the back of the man's knee, causing it to buckle. Immediately, he collapsed to the ground, catching himself by pressing both of his hands to the dirt.

Manhunter was right on top of him, planting the end of her staff between his shoulder blades. "Stay down," she warned threateningly.

The man held his pose for a moment before turning his head to look at them over his shoulder. "Don't think you've beaten me yet, Shiela. This fight is only just beginning."

Manhunter raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see how."

"That's because the Swagman is full of surprises."

_Ugh, really? That's his name?_ Huntress knew for certain this was the bottom of the barrel. It had to be. Who the bloody hell willingly chose the name Swagman as their assassin name? Were all the other good ones taken?

And here she was, after fighting alongside Batman for so long, facing some of the upper echelon of bad guys and now she was reduced to this. Suddenly Huntress understood why Nightwing and his Batclan had such an inferiority complex.

Of course, that was when...ugh, _Swagman_...raised a hand up into his jacket and pulled out a hand grenade. Without hesitation, his thumb slid into the pinhole and yanked out the pin. "I'd run if I was you," he said to the two women before he tossed the grenade between them.

Immediately, Huntress and Manhunter shot off in two different directions. An explosion blasted out a moment later, close to where Swagman had been kneeling. The force of the explosion threw Huntress off her feet, sending her sprawling to the ground.

_Ow, that's gonna hurt in the morning._ Wincing from the ringing in her ears, Huntress found herself on her back, a cloud of dirt rising into the air if she looked up. Staring at it, a body suddenly blew through the smoke, though it wasn't Swagman's.

Instead, it was the mime, who sailed over the purple-clad woman and crashed against a pile of garbage. Following close behind the clown came Katana, her sheathed sword in hand. Rapidly she closed the distance between her and the mime, pulling back her sheath and swinging it like a bat at the last moment. The sheath collided with the side of the mime's face, his body jerking from the blow before going limp.

"Well, well, looks like you took out ol' Lunaire." As Katana whipped around, Huntress rolled onto her side and then her front, pressing her hands into the ground. Unlike the mime's sudden burst through the smoke cloud, Swagman ambled out of the dissipating cloud, looking no worse for wear. This caused Huntress to scowl. She had momentarily forgot the man was wearing iron, so he didn't have to be concerned with how close the explosion was to his person. While his jacket was damaged, it revealed more of the iron suit he wore underneath it. "That just means I'll have to pick up the slack for the both of us."

"I think not."

Seemingly appearing out of thin air, Talia al Ghul stood behind Swagman. With a swing of her foot, she kicked the back of Swagman's knee, causing it to buckle. Giving a sharp cry, Swagman dropped to one knee. With one hand, Talia gripped the side of the man's helmet and turned his head. This allowed her to use her other hand to shove the barrel of her gun right into the eyehole of Swagman's helmet.

Without hesitation, Talia fired the gun once, twice, three times. Each shot caused the man's head to jerk back, only to be held by the dark-haired woman's other hand. Blood splashed out of the helmet, coating her arm. Once she was satisfied, she released Swagman's corpse, which collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Huntress stared with wide eyes, the rest of her face frozen. Part of her was shocked by the swift brutality of Swagman's execution, but another part wasn't surprised at all. She had seen crueler murders from her own family in Sicily, so death wasn't too shocking. However, that didn't mean she wasn't distraught from watching death.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Black Canary shouted then, appearing at Talia's side, shoving her away from the dead man. Talia merely stumbled back a step, quickly regaining her balance before glancing at the blonde woman. Rapidly, Canary searched for any sign of life left in the man, naturally finding none. "We could have used him to get intel!" she then shouted at the assassin, whipping her head to glare at her.

"We have his partner apprehended, do we not?" Talia returned coolly, holstering her gun. "We had no need of two captives."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's a mime. Mime's don't talk. At all!"

"By choice. Allow me some time and he will find his tongue rather quickly."

"No chance in hell." Standing up, Black Canary moved herself to stand between Talia and the mime, Lunaire. Katana did the same, followed by Manhunter and Huntress. Yeah, sure, turn over a helpless man to someone who had torture expert written all over her. That wasn't going to happen in this lifetime.

"Then how do you propose obtaining what he knows? Are you going to do it?" Talia countered.

"Damn right we are," Huntress said. "This isn't our first rodeo, lady."

Talia glanced to her. "Perhaps if you were your Batman, then I can see you making the man speak. Pardon me if I have my doubts towards your capabilities."

Almost as one, Huntress, Katana, and Manhunter stepped towards the dark-haired woman. The purple-clad woman was certain Black Canary would have done so as well if she weren't already in front of the al Ghul lady already. It was clear they were united in this. "Don't worry, we'll get him to talk," Black Canary informed her. "We have our ways too."

"Then I will insist on being present," Talia responded. "We all want the same thing and that is to end this new threat, you for your city, and I for its protector."

_Protector?_ Did she mean Batman? Huntress felt she was forgetting something important here. You know, aside from the fact that Batman had once worked for the woman's father.

"Fine, you want to tag along? Just know there won't be any more murdering while you're with us," Huntress told her. "This is Gotham and we do things a certain way. If you can't get behind that, then get out."

Again, Talia looked to her, seeming to stare right through her. "You speak of your Batman's no-kill policy. Very well, I can abide by these conditions, so long as they do not place me in a position to be killed."

So this was a tentative truce which would more than likely end with a couple of dead bodies and a fight between the Birds of Prey and an international terrorist. So be it. They just needed to prove their way was better in the long run.

Huntress had to hold back a snort. And bacon would grow wings and fly.

* * *

"Uh huh. Alright, thanks again Oracle."

Alright, some good news. After calming down, Red Robin had immediately contacted the Network's computer ace and asked if she could find out where his missing teammate was, and if she could, tell him where the Tamaranian was so that he could drag her back to the boat. There was a sense that time was running out with every second's delay and they were already starting to approach dawn.

Like always, Oracle came through, informing the masked teen that Starfire had not only been spotted but that she was heading in his direction. Good, very good. Now maybe they could finally get on their way and avoid a possible trip to the hospital.

"You look very relaxed. Let me guess, you know where she is." Raven, blunt as ever, was at his side and probably sensing his relief.

"She's on her way. We'll get ready to set sail while we wait. That way, we can leave as soon as she gets here," Red Robin said.

"Do we really have to go?" Beast Boy asked, his voice coming out as a whine. The shapeshifter was off to a side, crouched down on the deck with his elbows placed on his knees, hands tucked under his chin. He really did look like a kid with that kind of pose.

"If you want to find out how broken bones go whenever you decide to change into an animal, be my guest, but I would rather skip all that," the masked teen retorted. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get things started. Someone get the anchor."

As he set forth to head to the yacht's bridge, his boot feet setting a fast pace, he could practically sense someone was following behind him. Based on the rustling of cloth, the teen vigilante figured that it had to be the only girl on board who wore a cloak. He was soon proven correct in his guess when she spoke up.

"I am loathe to admit that I share any opinion with Garfield, but I do not like the choice of leaving behind a man with that...wrongness about him and allowing him to run around this city unimpeded." Yeah, he could hear the distaste in Raven's voice with that first part, but then her tone became more serious for the rest of it. It took Red Robin a second to recall that previous conversation.

"Yeah, but we have no idea where that guy with the bandages is hiding or even who he is. It sucks, but it's out of our hands." It was the sad truth of it all; this was a bit of unfinished business, but Red Robin was more than certain that Batman would be able to take care of it.

"I wasn't just speaking about the bandage man. I was also speaking of Batman."

That brought Red Robin to a stop, and he looked over his shoulder at the cloak-wearing girl. "Go on," he prompted.

"Now that I have had more time to observe him, I have also detected the taint of death on him. The bandaged man isn't the only one to have escaped Death's grasp." Though her words alternated between specific and vague, it did nothing to diminish the air of mystery that seemed to settle around the magic user. "And before you ask who, I'll end your speculation and tell you that I'm talking about Batman."

Had Raven told him this a few weeks, or even a couple months ago, Red Robin would have had a reasonable reaction. However, this was the post-Bane era, and he had seen and heard a lot throughout that mess. Thus, it was his turn to surprise Raven when he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Makes sense."

The masked teen couldn't help but savor the surprise he saw in the girl's widened eyes. "Are...are you saying you...you _knew_ about that? How? _I_ only came to that conclusion recently!"

"Eh, he mentioned that he had died some years back. He got better," Red Robin summed up as he resumed his mission to start up the yacht.

"When?!" Raven exclaimed as she hurried after him. For once, he had an answer to a mystery and she didn't have all the answers. Was this what it felt like to be Batman? It probably was, and man did it feel good.

"I'll tell you once we're on our way," he said as he entered the bridge, heading for the ship's steering mechanism as well as the proverbial start button to this floating house. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a simple key and inserted it into an ignition slot, something you would expect in a car but not a boat.

All the while, he blatantly ignored the fuming he sensed from the hooded girl. With a simple turn, he could hear the sounds of the engines turning on, the various gauges and computer screens lighting up as electricity flowed through the circuitry.

All right, time to let this baby warm up, and when Starfire—

The yacht shook a bit, something that was a little concerning, but the loud sound of an explosion was more than alarming. With his hands grasping the steering wheel in order to maintain his balance, the dark haired vigilante demanded out loud, "What the hell was that?!"

Barely a second later, Raven answered in an alarmed tone of voice, "We're under attack!"

There was no need to ask how she knew that. She could sense emotions, and from those figure out what it all meant. Without waiting for clarification or further detail, Red Robin dashed out of the bridge, heading out into open air and keeping an eye out for any signs of where the attack was coming from.

Spotting a bright blue beam of energy cutting up into the night sky gave away that the yacht had been struck from behind. With his blood chilling for a second, the masked teen sped up as he ran with everything he had, praying that it was something that wasn't important that had been hit. Smoke rising into the air only foretold that that wasn't going to be the case, but damn it, a guy could hope.

A flash of white caught his attention, and soon enough, he spotted the sight of King, that bastard flying about on that flying card of his, laughing it up as Cyborg fired another blast at him. Skidding to a stop, Red Robin took in the situation, a hand already slipping out a damn birdarang.

He could see a red glow from where the engines were, as well as all the smoke rising from it. Oh no, no, no, no, please no.

"Trying to leave?" King taunted from above as he weaved around Wonder Girl, the armored blonde's fist hitting nothing but air thanks to the aerial maneuvering. "The party's only getting started! We're not done with you for a minute!"

Red Robin could only snarl at this. Thankful that the weapon he held was of the explosive type, he threw it with all the precision he could muster, smirking viciously when the following detonation caused a yelp of surprise from the card-themed bastard. It was too bad that King was able to maintain his balance, but it left him wide open for their counterattack.

Cyborg's blast singed the edge of King's overcoat, the young-sounding man barely pulling away at the last second. A green-colored monkey took advantage of the distraction to pop up right behind the attacker's head and wrap long, thin arms around both his neck and skull, little hands covering King's eyes. King's larger hands reached up, grabbing at the arms to try and free up his vision only for the smaller limbs to slip away and replaced themselves.

So busy with this, he was wide open for Wonder Girl's kick to his back. King cried out as he was thrown off his flying card, and as he fell, it seemed like the group of teens had this in the bag. Beast Boy was jumping off the falling guy, it was hard to say if he was indeed a teen or just a really, really young man, and it was just their attacker rushing down towards the deck of the yacht.

It seemed like nothing could go wrong, but that flying card flew in and snatched him midair, carrying King away. Crouched on the flying device, the card-themed bad guy glared over his shoulder at them before giving them a smirk. "Catch you later, twerps."

And off he went, vanishing into the night. Wonder Girl had to follow after him, but she pulled herself short, keeping a defensive stance between the fleeing King and their damaged boat. Red Robin turned his attention to the smoking and burning engines, happy to see black-colored magic suddenly wrap around them to snuff out the flames by depriving them of oxygen.

Ignoring the commentary from the others, he approached the engines to give them a look over, and it became a shame as he was not the most authoritative on this kind of thing. Perhaps he should get Cyborg to take a closer look at it. Still, even a layman could see that the machinery was toast; a large hole could be made out from the engines, even through Raven's magic. This was no little damage.

His loud expletive was totally expected.

* * *

There was always a point in any investigation where no more evidence could be collected and needed to be put together to form a story that made sense. Whenever Corrigan came to this inevitable end, he made his way to a diner and ordered himself something to eat while he put the pieces together to see what he had found.

The most obvious was that something was happening in Gotham, something that had been happening for centuries with an increase in activity in only the last few years. Dark rituals involving blood magic with an entity of which there was little information on were being conducted in secret in various locations in and around the city. Some of these locations were old, really, old, but what some of them had in common was the Wayne name, the same name belonging to one of the oldest and most influential family the city has ever known, it introduced a new and complicated dimension to the investigation.

Typically, those kind of families tended to have secrets, secrets of the kind that were drenched in blood themselves.

On the other hand, just because some secrets were bloody didn't mean they were hidden because it was a guilty pleasure or a personal passion. Sometimes it was kept hidden out of shame.

As he bit into an all-American burger, the pile of steaming fries waiting to be devoured, the detective continued to run through everything he had found out. It was all documented on a pad of yellow, lined legal paper, nothing too fancy or curiosity inspiring like a folder or a briefcase. All was in shorthand, which naturally only made sense to him. Anyone else reading it would find themselves completely lost.

While he had a lot, there were some crucial pieces he was still missing, bits of information that he did not have access to or know how to find. This is what most would call a standstill; there was no further progress and nothing new was rearing its little head.

Chewing through cooked meat that was flavored with condiments and different kinds of vegetables, pickled and not, Corrigan faced the one last lead, if you could call it that, that he had had left to look into.

So many arrows pointed towards the Wayne Family. Most of the individuals in question were long since passed. There was only one scion left...well, one scion and a prodigal. It was the scion who potentially could blow open the case and give him what he needed. However, the scion could be part of a family-based conspiracy and may try to kill him.

Hmph, most likely not that last one. He had it on good authority that this particular Wayne had an aversion to killing. Physical assault was more his thing. Personally, Corrigan also preferred the physical element, burying your fist into a deserving prick's face and all, but that's not what his career path led him to.

It could make anyone wonder why he investigated the unseen and, dare he say it, supernatural. Sure, it made for an interesting life, but paying the bills not so much.

Going to Bruce Wayne of all people and asking about some personal family secrets was not going to be as simple as speaking it. Most people had a natural block to the supernatural, giving them a kind of immunity to the unseen world that would give nightmares to even the bravest soul. He would have to explain and present his investigation to the man and hope Wayne would be willing to lend a hand. Again, there was no guarantee for that.

If his sources were correct, he might have an ally close by, really close by, who could allow the Wayne to open his eyes enough so that Corrigan could get something out of the meeting. At the end of it, what he needed was more information and he couldn't get more unless he sought out a lead that was not exhausted yet.

At the end of it, there really was no choice in the matter for him, was there? There was never a choice in it for him.

Swallowing, the detective muttered to himself, "Okay, how am I going to put this all together?"

Running his eyes over the scrawled over legal pad, he grimaced. Straightening out some of this was going to be a must before he made another trip out into the country and knocked on the door to a world of opulence and history.

Just another glorious part of the job.

* * *

Booted feet marched down the long hallway, Hush keeping his eyes peeled. He was still smarting from the route in that cave—he refused to give in to the urge to call it a Batcave—and kept telling himself that this was only a setback and meant nothing in the long run. Faintly, he scratched at his injured arm, doctored up in a sling.

First, he needed to consult with the so called mastermind of this plot against his former childhood friend. The bandage-faced man needed to plan out the next step, one that needed to incorporate recent events. One of the surviving Fiends had pointed him in this direction, and so here he was searching for a man who was suddenly so hard to find.

Not for long because soon enough, he found Hurt and the two men he had placing explosive against a wall down a small, dead-end corridor. The men were two of the leather-wearing Fiends, one even had a spike-themed mohawk. The shrill of a drill boring into the wall gave up their location, and once the tool was removed, a charge covered in a putty-like substance was crammed into the resulting hole. There were multiple holes like this in this particular segment of the wall, and Hush gazed over the work for a moment before turning towards Hurt.

The sight of the man caused him to raise an eyebrow.

"Wardrobe change?"

From behind a mask that covered much of the upper half of his face, the fabric extending out in the shape of horns, two bland brown eyes peered back at him in mirth. Below the mask was a suit of pure black only interrupted by a white, lined dress shirt that was mostly hidden under the sports jacket. Tied around his neck was an inky black cape, one that tended to spike out at equal intervals.

Vaguely, Hush recalled his namesake wearing this costume at a parry—a masquerade. That had been decades ago, and as he recalled, one of the last Halloween parties that Thomas Wayne had attended. Had you looked from the back, the person wearing the costume would appear like the outline of a bat with upraised wings.

With a smirk, Hurt replied, "Seeing everyone in their flamboyant costumes made me feel left out, so I decided to adopt one of my own."

"And that one specifically? Where did you dig that one up?" Hush retorted.

"You should already know, though it is irrelevant," Hurt said. The bad doctor returned his sights to the pair of working men who were busy setting up the main explosive device, attaching it to all the charges and hanging it against the wall. "I've heard that tonight was a bust. The cave has been denied to us."

"Br—Batman had more toys hidden away than I had anticipated." Hush also looked away from his collaborator, as weak of a word that was. "The 99 Fiends were not up to the task."

"Caligula was captured. Scorpiana only recent returned to inform me of that," Hurt continued.

"Caligula is no real loss. A loser looking for his last shot at the big time," the bandage-wearing man scoffed. "Since it was Scorpiana returning, it was the Bird of Prey who captured him. At the very least, whatever he told them will take them further away from this location."

"You planned on sacrificing him?" There was a hint of curiosity in Hurt's tone.

"Most, if not all of them, are pawns." He was not about to sugarcoat the situation. Who Hurt believed to be capable of being part of this plot was truly underwhelming and Hush had realized it as soon as he came into contact with those individuals. _That_ was why he had them all on diversionary tactics and not for the main show. They would act as the gnats they were and no more. "We may have an army, but there are no rooks, no knights, and no bishops among them. We only have pawns, a queen, and a king at our disposal, and I will use pawns as they are meant to be used."

"For sacrifices. How appropriate from a man such as yourself," Hurt chuckled. "The irony is not lost on me."

Someone was not taking this seriously enough. "I hope you have something in your arsenal, because Batman has an armored suit stashed away for a rainy day, and it's already flooding."

It was but for a moment, but Hush suddenly became the very definition of his moniker. It was a pulling sensation, one that had innate, primal reflexes screaming at him to find some way to ensure survival. It was like his very soul was detaching from his body, threatening to wisp away on an invisible wind towards oblivion.

As suddenly as it began, it ended, though Hush was gasping harshly all the same. Hurt looked at him, a knowing glint in his eye. "Do keep your tone civil, Thomas. Your temper will not help you here, and I will not tolerate any insubordination from you, not until after the Dance Macabre is finished."

With an arm, Hurt guided him away from the hallway, the two Fiends following after them. While they used distance, the two men crouched close to the floor, one holding a detonator. With the press of a button, the explosive detonated, dust and debris blasting out of the dead end hallway and into the bigger, wider corridor. When the smoke cleared, the Fiend holding the detonator checked out the wall then gave a thumbs up to the evil doctor.

Hurt left his side, leaving Hush to gather his wits. Once he was composed, he followed after. Where the section of the wall that had been prepped, a large hole replaced it. On the other side, he could see what looked like the entrance to a cave of sorts, the water eroded earth being the only thing that could be seen with the current lighting.

"Very good," Hurt praised as he peeked his head in. "To think they would try and seal this cavern away. For all the good that did."

"What's this about?" Hush demanded.

"Just a place to conduct some...sensitive business," the doctor answered, shooting a knowing look over to him. "I think it's business you would find integral. It is getting about that time for a refresher, don't you think?"

The bandages hid the grimace twisting his face. Oh, he knew what that refresher was and what it would entail.

"Yo! Mummy man! We need to talk. Me and the guys got a complaint! We need to see some more action!" The youthful voice gave away the speaker's identity, and Hush felt himself already tensing up in aggravation. The self-proclaimed leader of the Royal Flush Gang was choosing now of all times to be a pest, and the former surgeon was not in the mood to tolerate it right now.

This was especially true after the very, very real existential threat he had just experienced.

"Stuff it, King, now is not a good time to air grievances," he snapped, not even deigning to look at the costumed youth.

"Come on!" Was that a whine? What was this, some bizarre babysitting service that was being run here? "We're better than everyone else around here! Why are you giving all the good stuff to the losers? We can handle the freaks in this city! You know we can. We had the Bat on the ropes, you saw!"

Hurt was giving him a look, an amused one that stated that he was not going to handle this and it was all up to the bandage-wearing man. So it was up to him to do everything around here, was it?

"You will stand down until a part is found for you to fill and not before," Hush stated. "This isn't a school house brawl we're working on. It is delicate, it is—"

"Can we cut the bullshit and just do what we all know what we're going to do? We're trying to kill Batman, so let's just do it already and get it over with," King interrupted. Hush could hear the eyeroll in that tone of voice. "It's not that hard; we would have done it if it hadn't been for those twerps. Oh yeah, you need to hear this!"

He was losing brain cells, even if they weren't his to lose. The bandaged man didn't bother to respond to what was going to become some kind of chest thumping, adolescent bragging session.

"I followed those guys to a boat they were using," King continued, full on bragging about it. "Looked like they were going to take off, and we can't have that right? So I blew up their motor or something and made sure we can have some more fun with them. Hey, if you care more about Batman, how about letting me and the guys have some fun of our own with them, since you don't really care about them."

From tense to frozen, Hush's eyes widened, not in shock but in absolute anger. He had heard every word, but only a few were important, and they needed to be addressed immediately.

"Sorry, could you repeat that? Did you say that those brats were about to leave?" he asked, keeping his tone of voice calm and hiding the growing anger welling within him.

"Uh, yeah? They got in the way, remember? We can't let them get away with that." And King was oblivious to the growing danger that was mere feet from him. "They looked like they were planning a little trip so I canceled their plans."

Hush exhaled loudly as he fought to keep his composure. He wasn't looking at Hurt, but he knew the doctor was watching him, seeing how he was going to respond. Fine then, he would respond.

Turning fully to face the shorter youth, Hush regarded the smug expression on King's face, the confident stance his posture held, hell, there was even that clear adolescent belief of invincibility that was so obvious in his every action. King was expecting to be praised and congratulated for a job well done, going above and beyond the call of duty, etc…

The bandaged man's congratulations came in the form of a punch to the face. The youth's head snapped backwards, his center of gravity disrupted so much by the unexpected blow that he began to fall only for Hush to grab him by the lapel of his overcoat and pull him towards the older man. A knee to the gut followed that and over his leg did King go, eyes wide as air was forced from his lungs. Dropping his knee down, it went back up and dug into the youth's side, pushing the lithe body to a side and slamming him into a wall.

Down Hush's leg went, snaking around King's and tripping the costumed teen so that finally onto the floor he went. Hush took a knee, ramming the joint into King's chest and pinning him down. For the coup de grace, the bandage-wearing man pulled out one of his pistols and dug into the idiot's cheek, bringing an end to the assault.

"I want you to listen to me," Hush growled menacingly. "Usually, I would quote Aristotle, but right now, I'm in the mood for some Napoleon. He once said, 'Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.' So, please tell me your reasoning again as to _why_ you felt the need to stop the wild card in this game from leaving the board. Those interlopers were in the middle of doing us a favor. Now, we need to expend resources and time dealing with them instead of 'trying to kill Batman.'"

Pausing, he detected a light from below. The brat was going to try and use his special power, hmm? Without breaking eye contact, Hush drew a leg bag and kicked it into King's ribs, interrupting the boy's concentration. Immediately the light died out.

"Don't," he growled. Taking a moment, he continued, "For the time being, you and the rest of the Royal Flush Gang will be on standby. No more going out, no more nights on the town, nothing until _I_ give you permission. Now go back to your little hole and wait. If you disobey me, I will make things very uncomfortable for you and anyone else who gets bright ideas. That includes Ten, and if he thinks his invincibility will protect him from me, he has no idea that I can make him feel pain. If I can do that to him, imagine what I'll do to you. Do you understand?"

Sullen, though he attempted to appear defiant, King nodded. Pushing himself off the brat, and in the process digging his knee deeper into that teenaged chest, Hush stood up and turned back to Hurt. The two men waited for King to pick himself up and run off with his proverbial tail between his legs. Just another reminder that he had never been good with kids.

"Tough love?" Hurt commented.

"There's no time for pleasantries, we need to isolate, contain, and eliminate those interlopers once and for all," Hush retorted. "They weren't part of the original plan, and one element can ruin everything."

"Any thoughts?" the bad doctor asked mildly.

Hush took a moment to think about it before answering, "Get me El Sombrero. I have a location I need him to prep."


	18. Break Even

Break Even

Huntress knew they had a problem when out of two possible informants, they had captured the mime. Mimes were trained to never break character and that character was one of silence. They were infamous for never speaking a word.

And this Lunaire was beholding to that role with every fiber of his being.

Katana's sword hadn't worked. Black Canary's shrill cry hadn't worked. Huntress and Manhunter knocking him around hadn't worked. Honestly, they had used everything they could without flat out dismembering him and none of it had worked.

If it weren't for the frustration this was causing, the purple-clad woman would've been impressed.

That was when that Talia lady had stepped in. "Allow me a try," she had said and then dragged the mime into another room of the ruined Birdcage. Seeing as there was, like, three rooms, there wasn't a whole lot of choice.

Which left the Birds waiting and waiting. It had been some time since they had seen those two and Huntress was certain whatever Talia was doing, it was some form of torture. Now, while they had done their own various forms, she doubted Talia had any reservations with how far she would go. And yet, it was the silence that was most unnerving. There were no screams, no banging, no anything. Practically anything could be happening right now and they had no clue as to what.

And then the door opened. Striding through the doorway was Talia, who was pulling on a glove over her hand. Whatever the reason—other than the fact she had taken it off previously—it was a concerning scene.

"I have a name," the dark-haired woman announced as she came to a stop before the Birds, all of whom were standing up and looking right at her.

"You got a name?" Manhunter questioned incredulously. "How? What did you do to him?"

Talia shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing he'll be repeating."

Huntress couldn't help the snort she made. That was actually pretty good, she had to give credit. Curiously, she glanced to the closing door, hoping to see through the doorway and get a glimpse of what had gone on in that room, and was disappointed to not see anything.

"So what name did you get?" Black Canary asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"March," Talia answered her. "Lincoln March. He is the man currently running Wayne Enterprises following its ouster of Bruce Wayne." She flexed her fingers in front of her face, the glove she had placed over them tightening as the leather pulled and crinkled.

So, they had a businessman. He shouldn't nearly be as hard to crack as the mime. Gotham's elite weren't known for having backbones. "I take it you intend on paying this March guy a visit?" Huntress questioned.

"Naturally. In fact, I'm looking forward to it."

That caused Black Canary to narrow her eyes. "Are you going to do to March what you did to Lunaire? Because we may have a problem with that."

Talia raised an eyebrow at that. "It got us the name when none of your tactics worked. Considering that you did not witness my interrogation, you have nothing to object to."

"All the same, _we're_ going to be investigating March."

The dark-haired woman tossed her head up, looking at the blonde vigilante haughtily from the end of her nose. "If you wish to accompany me, then you may do so. The means matters very little to me so long as the results are what I desire."

Oh, a means justify the ends kind of gal, huh? It seemed the Birds of Prey were going to have to heavily enforce Batman's no-killing code. Huntress didn't think he'd have a problem with them doing so.

However, before they could begin, another door opened and in strolled Batgirl. "I—" she began to speak when she caught sight of the women before her.

At first, Huntress was glad to have a Bat with them. If there was anyone they could use to get word to Batman, it was her. And he would enforce whatever actions they took. However, that feeling vanished as she noticed Batgirl stiffening at the sight of Talia, who in turn gazed at with cool indifference.

Indifference that was hardening into a disapproving scowl.

If the situation in the Birdcage was tense already, it had nothing on how tense it was now. "What are you doing here?" Batgirl damn near growled.

"Conversing with some of Batman's followers," Talia replied, which caused a flare of annoyance within Huntress. "I ask the same question of you."

"Working," she shot back succinctly. Then she turned her head to Huntress. "Why she here?"

The rough undercurrents notwithstanding, the purple-clad vigilante felt that perhaps if they stayed on point, there wouldn't be a fight breaking out. The Birdcage could only take so much punishment after all. "I'm assuming you know of Talia al Ghul," she replied simply before glancing to the dark-haired woman. "And you know Batgirl."

All she received in response were sharp nods from both women. "Good, then we can skip pleasantries." Or the lack thereof. "Talia here helped us captured another of the assassins that have been attacking all the vigilantes. Us, the Batclan, everyone looks like they're being targeted. We just got a name to follow and you're more than welcome to join us."

Batgirl stared at her before she nodded again. "I have information on those scorpions," she then said. "I...spoke with Batman. He said the poison in the robots were a strong pain medication. He gave me a list of people that have access to this medication."

So that's where she's been. Huntress had been wondering where the little Bat had gone, but now it made sense. Apparently all of their encouragement for her to speak with big, Daddy Bat had finally sunk in. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Talia perking up at the mention of Batman.

"It would seem we have a couple leads," she summarized for them. "I will be following up with March if you will look into this scorpion person."

Uh, no, not a chance. "We can do that later," Huntress said. "Right now, if this March guy is in the thick of it with these assassins, then we're _all_ going. The more fighters we have, the less they'll be able to get the drop on us. Besides, Batgirl here can give us a rundown on what Batman's up to since he has his own assassin problem. If we're going to get to the bottom of this, then we all need to be informed of what the other groups are doing."

Again, Talia tossed her head back. "As you wish."

You better believe it was how she wished. She knew the moment Talia was on her own, there would be more dead bodies. If this was the best way to keep a leash on the dark-haired assassin, then so be it. Besides, now they had one of the best fighters in the city with them. There wasn't going to be much the al Ghul lady would be able to get away with.

* * *

The supercomputer was hard at work, scanning and searching through the web, performing the command set into it.

Batman sat at the chair, staring at the screen, ignoring the frequent flashes of the monitor as it worked. The Cave, though damaged, was slowly being restored courtesy of Zatanna's magic. While he wasn't one to use shortcuts, he had more important business to attend to and it was far easier to have the magician clean up the Cave with a few spoken words.

Cassandra had left some time ago, once she was reassured no more threats were eminent to the vigilante and the Cave specifically. It also just so happened that the supercomputer obtained a list of suspects for the young girl concerning the identity of the scorpion woman. It was simple to obtain the list of registered medical professionals allowed to obtain Fentanyl in large quantities. Though the list had a majority of hospitals on it, there was someone at those hospitals, be one or a few, that were registered under their names. Cassandra could follow those up with the Birds of Prey since that was who she was going to meet up with.

Which left him with his own search. Seeing as he had no idea who the 99 Fiends were, he wanted to look into their collective background and see if he couldn't find a clue, specifically how they had come into contact with Hush.

That was when a window opened up, attracting his attention. An image appeared of what seemed to be a newspaper article. It was written in Spanish, a headline in bold lettering above a picture of what looked like a burning car. In spite of this, he was able to read the article. Quickly scanning through it, the article soon told him of violence in a South American town, perpetrated by a group calling themselves the 99 Demonios.

Demonios. Spanish for fiends. It looked like he found a lead on them.

Quickly, he entered a search for the 99 Demonios. Taking much less time than the initial search, he was bombarded with windows, each one speaking of the crimes and violence committed by the group. A couple even showed pictures of a few of its members and Batman confirmed without a doubt that this was the group that invaded the Cave. The outfits the members wore in the pictures were similar to the ones he had seen earlier this night.

"So, Sherlock, any leads?" Zatanna asked him as she approached the vigilante from behind, coming to stand next to his chair as she rested an arm on top of it.

"I believe so. It seems those 99 Fiends are from South America, though there isn't a specific country. They've perpetrated violence in at least half of the countries there, spreading north into Central America as well. As of late, they've been reported being in Mexico."

"Maybe they were working for the cartels down there," the dark-haired woman suggested. "If these guys are as violent as they were tonight, then I can see them getting hired down there by any one of them."

That was a good point. Entering another command linking 99 Fiends, Mexico, and cartel, he waited for the computer to process the order. It took a few moments before any results were reported. It seemed Zatanna was right on the money too.

"El Penitente," Batman read off. "A relatively new cartel, founded a few years ago, muscled out a few more prominent cartels and taking their territory. No new violent acts by the cartel in the last few months, but no signs of a turf war springing up around their territory."

Batman thought about that. A decrease in activity, but then their militant branch shows up in Gotham unexpectedly and not even in the city's streets either. What sort of drugs was this group involved with? Scanning through a couple of the articles, he found one in which the Mexican government was accusing the group of narcotic production, including heroin, cocaine and…

The dark-clad man's eyes narrowed. Fentanyl, this group made that drug? What were the odds that the Fiends had brought a shipment or two of their drugs into Gotham? Considering there was a woman running around with robotic scorpions loaded with Fentanyl, he was starting to suspect the list of providers he had given Cassandra was perhaps a wild goose chase.

Which would mean this El Penitente was in Gotham, quickly sneaking in. He hadn't heard any word of a cartel moving and he was certain the gangs would've reported as much. The cartel would've first sought out territory, which would require muscling out the local groups, something they wouldn't take lying down.

Yet, despite all of this new information, he couldn't see how it connected to Hush. How was he involved with a Central American cartel and why would he help them get a foothold into Gotham? There had to be a larger play here than what he was seeing.

"This is one fine rabbit hole we're going down," Zatanna spoke then as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. "I don't know about you, but I don't see why this friend of yours is involved with the drug trade, you know, aside from how lucrative it is. He doesn't strike me as a guy that would get involved in that world."

Batman nodded his agreement. "I agree. We're missing something."

"I'm gonna guess that it'll require some research in the field too."

"Most likely, yes."

"Then it can wait." Blinking his eyes, Batman tore his eyes away from the computer screen and looked up to his old friend. Zatanna was looking down at him with a serious look on her face. "You need to take a break."

She couldn't be serious. No, she was, but if she honestly thought he was going to take one, then she was sorely mistaken. Suddenly, Zatanna held a hand up, gesturing for him to wait. "Just hear me out. You just fought off an army of cartel thugs after we both investigated that apartment, you know, the one you looked as if you were having some kind of nervous breakdown in. You need to take a break, clear your mind even for fifteen minutes."

"We don't have fifteen minutes. Hush is out there, plotting, getting ready to attack us again. We can't give him that time," he argued.

"But what else are you going to do with that time? Run around aimlessly and hope you get lucky? We don't even know where these Fiend guys are."

"Yes, we do," he countered. "The ones you sent to the hospital. One of them should be able to give us some answers."

Zatanna stared at him before she let out a sigh. Then she moved around his chair, much to the dark-clad man's confusion. She then sat in his lap, her body perpendicular to his while she turned her head and shoulders to face him. "Bruce, humor me for a moment," she said before she wrapped her arms around his head, hugging him as his face was inadvertently pressed into her shoulder.

"Do you remember the last time we were like this?" she asked him after a moment.

Batman pulled his head back slightly so that he could look up at the dark-haired woman. "Yes, you were trying to get into my pants if I recall right."

A blush slowly worked its way up Zana's face. "No I...oh, yeah. When we were dating." She had a sheepish look on her face. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the first time we were like this."

Batman couldn't help raising an eyebrow at that. "You mean when we were working for your father in his circus? When you said you were cold and—"

"Not that time either!" Zatanna quickly interjected, her face completely red now. He couldn't help the smirk that was forming on his face. That had been one of her many attempts at teenage seduction and perhaps one of her more successful ones.

She then sighed again. "I mean," she said through gritted teeth, "the first time we did this in this cave."

The first time she sat on his lap in the...oh. Already he knew what time she was speaking of. It was after the Joker's mass gassing at City Hall, in which he had spent days working on a cure for the mad clown's Joker Venom. Zatanna had comforted him in that dark time and it was clear she was trying to do the same here.

Hesitantly, he raised an arm up, wrapping it along the magician's back. Zatanna merely pulled his head back into her shoulder as she embraced him again. His other arm found its way to lying across her lap, his hand resting on her hip. The urgency he had been feeling the last week was beaten back in his mind. If Zana felt he needed to step back, chances were she was right. She had seen him in worst states before.

Her arms began to loosen around his head, which allowed him to pull back once more to look up at her. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked bemused.

"It was terrible," he replied with a smirk. "Worst hug ever."

"Oh? And how would you improve on it?"

"I can think of a couple things."

Because of his mask, Zana couldn't see his eyes drop down to her bosom. But then, she didn't really need to. She leaned her head towards him, resting her check against his forehead. "You're incorrigible, you know that?" she replied. A moment later, she pulled back and looked down at him, a twinkle of mirth in her eyes. "Not that I would be opposed."

Suddenly, an alarm went off and Zana's good humor vanished into annoyance. "Goddamnit, who's blocking me this time?" she growled as she looked up to the super computer. Doing the same, a brand new window opened.

However, unlike the ones containing information on the 99 Fiends and El Penitente, this one was of a video feed, that of the front door of Wayne Manor. There was a man standing on the porch, seemingly staring at the front door. He then raised his hand and hit the doorbell, which caused another alarm to sound off from the computer.

Staring at the man's features, Batman found he didn't recognize him at all. However, he felt Zatanna stiffen against him. This prompted him to look at her curiously.

The look on her face had done a one-eighty from the flush she had from his teasing. The color had drained out, leaving her pale, her blue eyes widened with alarm. "What's wrong?" he asked her.

"That's…" she spoke before cutting herself off to swallow deeply. "That's Jim Corrigan. What's he doing here?"

Again, Batman didn't recognize the man nor his name. "You know him," he stated.

"Of course I…" Once more, she stopped as she tore her eyes from the screen to look at him. "Nevermind that, if he's here, then he wants to see you. I highly suggest you do. He's not someone you ignore."

"Not until you tell me who he is," he countered.

"Bruce, I love you, but there are forces in this world that are beyond even you. He's one of them. Now get out of your Batsuit, clean up, and offer this man some coffee. Oh, and don't bully him. That never works."

* * *

For once, the GCPD was calm. Yes, there was the usual activity, the usual amount of phones ringing, a regular amount of detectives and officers at desks filling out paperwork, but none of it was hectic. There would be large periods of time when there were no ringing phones so they weren't ringing off the hook. The sounds of typing on computers were about as loud as the pen strokes made as officers filled information. Some were taking a break around a water cooler, talking about what they saw on TV the night before.

It felt off to Sarah who had seen so much in this city that a slowdown like this was odd. It was like she was looking a gift horse in the mouth that she was unsure about this calm.

But why not enjoy it? Things never stayed calm in Gotham. There was always one more thing around the corner. So she should take this chance to finish off some of her caseload and start on the couple files that had been placed on her desk just this morning.

Yes, a couple files. On a normal day, she'd have ten new ones in about an hour. See how slow things had become?

As she closed one case, she picked one of the newer files. This was a robbery, one at a convenience store, no one hurt, and there were surveillance tapes. She was going to need to get her hands on that footage and see what clues she could pick up from that. Also, she would need to speak with the responding officers, and go to the store in question to see what she could pick up on. The usual slew of interviewing witnesses, canvasing the scene, looking for individuals who may have seen anything.

With that plan in mind, she moved on to the second folder. This one held a report on a dead body found in a local park. Immediate evidence had some needles around the body, with one in the arm. From this little bit of information, it sounded like an accidental drug overdose. The body was probably being sent to the morgue as she read this and all that would need to be done was do some follow up, and notifying the next of kin of their loss.

With the exception of that last part, this was going to be another standard case.

Still, before she went out, the lieutenant would check in on this overdose, see if they had any files on him for drug related offenses, and then check his social media for any supplemental information. Opening up a program on her computer, she put in the deceased's information and did a quick search. Nothing came up, which didn't mean anything. All that meant was that the GCPD hadn't picked him up for anything.

Next was the social media check. It took a bit to find the right accounts, mainly because more than one person shared the same named as the deceased. Once she found the right one, she checked to see the usual stuff, found links to other sites and accounts he had, which of course Sarah followed.

When she went to his blog, that was when the frown began. It was almost eerie the kind of information she found on it, especially since it involved urban exploring. The lieutenant could have sworn this all seemed familiar.

Reaching to a pile of files on her desk, ones that were in her completed box, she rummaged through them until she found the one name that was on the tip of her tongue.

Becklyn Turner, the urban explorer whose case was closed recently as a suicide. The same urban explorer who's parents were adamant had not committed suicide.

The overdose explorer went by the name of Aaron Timms, right now being considered an accidental death. Both he and Turner were urban explorers, what were the odds? Was this a coincidence or something else? All the years in law enforcement, and as a detective, told her to not make any assumptions, whether they were in favor of coincidence or not.

Just having one interest in common wasn't enough to assume something sinister was at work; Sarah needed more information. Going back to Aaron's blog, she went over the last post he had made, specifically looking for any information on his next site for exploration.

And there it was, Stonegate Prison.

Hmm, what was the place that Turner was also planning to explore. It took a few minutes bring up Turner's blog and find the last of his posts. It was in these that she found what she was looking for, more references to Stonegate Prison.

Two urban explorers and the only other thing they had in common was plans to go to the same place? For a detective, this was too much of a coincidence. This would need more investigation.

If there was anything to be found, it could challenge the suicide and accidental death findings. Coroners, though, even in Gotham, were notorious for keeping to their original findings. To change from the first finding to even undetermined was close to an act of God in the best of circumstances. There would need to be hard evidence of foul play and then a request for a second autopsy if necessary.

The lieutenant shook her head, stopping her train of thought. She was getting ahead of herself. Really, all she had was two little details that were commonalities between two individuals who, from the surface, had nothing else in common with one another.

It was her job to make sure there was nothing else, so one step at a time. Stonegate Prison was a ways away from the city, though, so going alone may not be advisable.

Sarah wondered who she could grab for a little field trip.

* * *

It was almost like old times, really it was. After having Cyborg check over the engines to assess the damage while having the rest secure the area, Tim had gone back into the city, heading for the only place he knew he could go under the circumstances.

There was a part of him that dreaded having to re-enter Gotham, but this was too much of an emergency, and with the specter of Batman's wrath hanging over him, the teen vigilante knew there was no time to be sitting around, wringing his hands. Parts needed to be moving, actions needed to be taken, and something, anything, had to be done so that he could do what needed to be done and get the superpowered teens he had brought with him out of the city.

So he went to Barbara's. At first her response to his arrival at her apartment had been incredulous, but then he had explained what had happened, allowed some desperation to come out, and here he was, sitting on her couch with a glass of water. The dark-haired teen had been tempted to get coffee but that was long since cold and there was no way he was going to make some more without the paraplegic woman's permission. Barbara could get really anal about her coffee.

Luck seemed to have another surprise for him, because he wasn't the only visitor that his former partner would have today. Several minutes after he had been let in, Dick had shown up.

It was like they had an unplanned reunion today. It was too bad then that this was a business call and not a friendly one.

"God, I have no idea what I'm going to do," Tim moaned, leaning back into the couch with his hands pressed against his face.

Further down the couch, Dick gave him a look of sympathy. "What are you going to do?" Though his face gave sympathy, his words did not, instead demand a plan from the teen.

"Right now, I have them keeping the boat safe, Cyborg's looking at the damage, but you don't need to be a mechanic to know that that boat is going nowhere. We're stuck here unless we want to try Raven's little mind trick at the airport, that is if we can get Cyborg through security without putting the whole place on lockdown." It shouldn't be much longer until he heard word back about Cyborg's findings; using the robotic teen's tech, they should be able to figure what all they needed to make repairs.

"You needed to have left a long time ago. Why did you stick around long enough for this to happen?" There was Barbara with some cold, hard logic and a no nonsense tone. He knew she cared, but she was playing the role of disciplinarian right now. Letting him whine, moan, and complain about the situation was not what she was in the mood to do.

"I thought this was going to be short, we'd take care of Galtry and leave. I didn't think this was going to be rocket science to get them back to Jump City, but then everyone thinks now's a good time to do their own thing, Cyborg and Beast Boy get lost in the city, and this last time it was Starfire for I don't know what. All she did once she got back was apologize over and over for being tardy! And not being there to protect the boat! And I can't stay mad at her because it's obvious that she really is sorry! But it's because of her that King got the jump on us and stranded us here. I have no idea what the heck I'm doing anymore and now I have Batman to look forward to."

"I might not know much about your team dynamic, but maybe that might be the thing. You guys, and girls, aren't a team, not in the traditional sense," Dick remarked, his legs stretching far out from him, feet going underneath the coffee table placed in front of them. Then as an addendum, "And definitely not like we were, when the three of us first started off."

"Mind explaining that a bit more?" Tim asked wryly, moving the water about in his glass.

"Think about it; even though we were all three individual people with different experiences and other things, we all had the same goal. Can you say the same about your new group? Do you even have a single goal that brings the six you to work together?" the older male pointed out. "How well do you know one another? Is what brought you together in the first place enough to keep you together? Any group that's going to last needs to be able to agree on what they're supposed to do."

That was too good of a point that Tim couldn't argue it. Hell, the Batclan got together because all three of them wanted to make Gotham a better place and would do so by following Batman's example. They all had different backgrounds, different incidents in their lives that gave them motivation, and were different ages and at different places in their lives, yet the tree of them had been able to form a group.

Could the same be said of his new one? Based on what he could tell, four of them were along for the ride while one genuinely wanted to help even though it was more self-centered. What would motivate someone like Cassie to be a part of a crimefighting team? Raven? Kori? To the young teen, he couldn't answer any of those questions, or even the ones that he hadn't asked yet.

In some ways, it had been a miracle to get those five to agree to a trip to Santa Prisca. Now that they were all in Gotham, what was keeping them together? Loyalty? Familiarity? Strangers in a strange land?

If Tim was going to be successful with his vigilante career and in forming a new team, he was going to have to really think this thing through. At the end of it all, he knew that there was a lack of leadership, even though it seemed to be placed on him by default. The other five were going along with his personal mission here. Who knew how long they would humor him?

"You know you can figure all that out when you've gotten back to Jump," Barbara added her two cents in. "For the time being, we have a problem and that's you and five Little Justice Leaguers are in a place that you aren't needed in. Tell me what you need, Tim. Even though you've given me quite a few headaches over this team of yours, I don't want to see you being shipped back home in a body cast either. If we can't get that ship fixed, we might have to come up with a new plan. Last time we had help from Green Arrow; maybe he'll be willing to give us a hand with this."

"I'll let you know what the damages are once Cyborg sends me word," the transplanted teen sighed, sinking back into the couch as he dropped his hands onto his legs. Raising a pair of tired eyes, he took in the sight of his former teammates and felt a strong yearning for the old days, back when it was still so simple and Barbara still had her legs…

But there was no going back, was there?

Figuring a bit of a change in subject was warranted, at least while waiting for Victor to contact him, Tim asked, "Any tips on how to talk to girls—my age? Got a feeling I'll need them."

"Tim, you're like the younger brother I never had, but on this one you're on your own," Dick replied, giving a small chuckle.

A pleading look to Barbara was left to die as the wheelchair-bound woman shrugged her shoulders, nonverbally saying that she too was going to be of no help. Letting his head fall forward, Tim gave a mournful sigh. "What the hell am I going to say to...Wonder Girl?" The temptation to use her real name had been so great.

"Maybe what Batman said but gentler?" Dick suggested. "Something that gets the point across without the threats to hunt her down and beat her up?"

As if that was so easy to do.

"Be direct, let her explain herself, but don't slap her on the wrist," Barbara recommended, trying to sound helpful. "That's how my dad used to handle me whenever I got into some shit."

No consensus; figures.

"Alright, since I know this is going to weigh on you, let's be proactive about it. I'll try to reach Batman, let him know about the situation and explain what's up. Hopefully, he won't hold it against you and who knows, might help without the bodily harm," Barbara suggested.

"Just as long as you leave out the part about anyone in your little club dragging their feet and delaying you from leaving," Dick added helpfully.

It still sucked, but Tim didn't really have any other choice in the matter. "Yeah, fine, do whatever you can that keeps me in one piece. I don't think I can take him looking at me again. For some reason, it's worse than a disappointed parent and I don't know why."

Reason, that seemed to be in short supply nowadays. Everyone was acting on their emotions, doing what felt right in the moment with no regard for the consequences. At least now he knew better than to take another field trip, no matter where it was or led to.

Next time, if it involved Gotham, just send a tip and let the Dark Knight handle it. That would save a lot of headaches and keep him in one piece, even if it pissed off one of the guys or girls.

* * *

Author's Note: Fun fact, El Penitente, in Spanish, means "the penitent." It also happened to be a drug cartel headed by none other than a certain doctor with the last name of Hurt. Read on to find out how this fits in with the rest, whether it leads to more questions or hopefully an answer or three.


	19. inner Workings

Inner Workings

"Have you seen Red anywhere?"

That was the second time Cassie had asked that question. The first time had been to Victor, who was a bit preoccupied at staring at a hologram being projected out of his arm which showed some sort of damaged machine (guess what that is), and Garfield, who was currently napping while in the form of a sloth, hanging off a curtain rod in a shower. That had gone nowhere with those two because the cyborg was too busy going over the damage to the boat and the shapeshifter was too out of it to notice anything.

The second time had been to Raven who was in one of the cabins...doing something. She had her eyes closed, her lips were moving but not saying anything, and she was floating in the air. So everything normal there.

The blonde teen waited a moment because this wasn't the first time she had walked in on the pale-skinned girl doing such a thing, so she knew to wait a moment before walking off. Raven was busy doing some of that meditation stuff she tended to do, and could get very noisy if interrupted. That part also depended because that noisy part had involved Garfield jumping on her and the results hadn't been pretty.

"He left some time ago to consult with his contacts in the city." Cassie nearly jumped, having zoned out while waiting for an answer, but that was Raven for you. Though her voice could be incredibly soft at times, you always heard it nonetheless.

It figures though that the one time she was looking for Red, he had to be somewhere else. Remind her why he had free reign over this city...actually, now that she recalled this was Gotham, perhaps it would be best to stay on the boat. There were way too many freaks in this place, not counting them.

"You know when he's going to be back?" she asked instead, folding her arms in front of her.

When Raven didn't bother to answer, Cassie had her answer. No, the meditating girl had no idea and hadn't asked. Well, if she wanted an answer, maybe she could hit up Victor and get him to drop a line.

"I can sense your distress from here. Is what you need to talk with Red Robin about that important?" Raven spoke up suddenly. Instead of jumping or feeling surprised, Cassie narrowed her eyes.

"You're doing that feeling sensing thing again, aren't you?"

"I do that 'feeling sensing thing' all the time. There is no off switch to it. I don't need to try, you're radiating your emotions life a flamethrower without a control valve. It's spilling over and breaking my concentration. If nothing else, get it out into the open and do something about reducing it." She was clipped, very to the point, but Raven was never one to beat around the bush.

Cassie blew air through her lips, letting them flop about. Yeah, not very girly of her, but why would she care?

"I heard someone is in distress. Who is it and may I be of service in ridding them of it?" Oh, and there was Kori. Their resident E.T. was poking her nose into her business like an excitable dog. The blonde teen could not find it in her to hold it against the much taller and attractive female. Why did Kori have to have natural supermodel looks again?

"It's nothing, you don't need to worry about it," the blonde teen said, trying to diffuse the Tamaranian's concern before it could settle.

"Are you concerned about our current stranded status in a hostile land where we have been threatened with grievous harm should we remain longer than we are welcome? I apologize for my part in extending our time here long enough for that self-armed King to cause damage to our vessel." Such earnestness Cassie could see; Kori really was an open book with her emotions.

Now that the orange-skinned alien had brought up the memory of Batman's face inches from hers, that look on his face so full of ice-cold fury and his voice! It had started so quiet only to get loud and louder and that sent a chill up her spine just now. The only other person to get her close to feeling this way was her mother, but that felt like another life right now.

At least now, she could understand why Red was so averted to killing people. With someone like Batman watching over you, you played nice or not at all.

"You're thinking about what he said to you, aren't you?" And Raven was butting in, her voice annoyingly calm and straightforward.

"Look, I don't want to talk about any of that," Cassie stated.

"Is it because he is so intimidating? While I am aware of the strength differential, I find myself wanting to obey this man if only because his presence commands obedience," Kori remarked. "The words he used, I do understand their meaning in my other hand."

Okay, Kori had been going somewhere, but in her other hand? What was...oh wait, on the other hand. Was it concerning that Cassie was only now starting to understand the butchered phrases?

Nonetheless, after a pause first, the blonde teen found herself asking, "How so?"

"I have not kept in private that I myself have taken a life before," Kori said, her tone that of admittance.

"The Gordanian slaver you ran into during your escape," Raven confirmed her ability of memory.

Kori nodded her head. "It has not escaped me that when I...ended his existence, I ended everything about him. Like Batman said, everything he was and everything he could become, all in a second. It...it frightens me how easy it was to do. After spending so much time on this planet, with you, my friends, I am aware that if I am not careful with how I engage physical contact, I could easily do the same to any of you. Too tight my grip, and I crush the bones in your body, rupture the blood vessels, and potentially damage vital organs. I am also aware that I do have the skills to cause such harm without such strength as I have on this planet.

"I find myself frightened that if someone, like Batman, were to find out this truth about me, would he follow through on his threat? Would he 'bring me down' and would I try to resist? Would I kill him with a misplaced punch? A kick? A throw that I believe to have enough force to stun? Even though I am defending myself, and trying to prevent harm befalling my person, would lethal force be permissible?"

By the time Kori was finished, Cassie's jaw had lowered little by little until she was fishing for flies. Sometimes it was hard to remember everything that Kori had been through before she had met the Tamaranian. Even now her past actions were very much in her present.

Now she was reminded of that brawl, practically curb stomping that man in the deep sea scuba gear and punching him in his ugly face with no regard for anything other than how it made her feel. Thinking about it, how much force had she needed to use to shatter his skull? To break through the bone and reach his brain or whatever soft stuff there was? In that moment, she hadn't cared, hadn't considered what continuing would do other than to make her feel better about doing it. Even with Red and that other guy trying to restrain her, she had thrown them off with ease, so determined to get one more hit in.

Would that have been the hit that would have ended that man's life? Why now was she only starting to feel uncomfortable about it and not then, before Batman got into her face about it?

Such uncertainty tended to piss her off more often than not. Now that was something she could grasp on to; something so familiar, especially in light of being in unfamiliar situations, like this one. Oh sure, this wasn't the first time she fought other kids with superpowers trying to kill her, but having strangers she had either never met or never known…

"Do you think you can keep it quiet? I felt a spike from you," Raven stated, her deadpanned voice having an edge to it.

"What sort of skewer do you detect, Raven? Cassie does not appear to be impaled," Kori remarked.

"In this case, it's more a surge of emotions than a physical spike," the no longer meditating girl corrected.

"I see. Would you like to explain what you are feeling so that we may help to absolve it for you?" the Tamaranian turned to her, her open expression so inviting.

Letting some air escape through her teeth, Cassie took a moment to think about the offer before finally accepting it. Since Red wasn't around, and right now was not a good time to freak out or give in to any violent impulses, this would have to do.

"I don't like where things are going," she spoke, letting some frustration leak into her voice. "I've had to grow up tough, and for the longest time, I've been the toughest person I've ever known. And this isn't about you guys. I mean, I don't hold anything against anybody who have their reasons for who they are. I mean, Kori, you're from Tamaran and I can't hold that against you. And Raven, you have your magic, and it's something I have to respect.

"It's just...it's just ever since we came out here, I've been meeting people who are tougher than they have any reason to be. Remember Black Canary? She has a superpower, but she doesn't use it, not a lot anyway. Yet she kicks so much ass with just her fists and her kicks and she's not super strong or anything. Then there's that guy, the one who was with those Royal Flush assholes, had bandages around his face. He _looked down_ on me; didn't even think I was a threat. You know what he said to me? 'Not on your best day.'

"And the less said about Batman, the better. I can see now why Red's hung up on no killing, but you know what really gets me? It's like they are all looking down on us, me. We can all do this amazing stuff and none of them think anything of it. Who do they think they are? They don't know anything about me, what I've been through, where I've come from to get here...and it's been driving me up the wall!"

The other girls were watching her solemnly, Kori showing sympathy or empathy or whatever while Raven continued with a face that made stone look soft. Neither had made an attempt to cut her off or interrupt, just letting the teenaged girl get it all off her chest.

"This has been building within you for some time," Raven commented. "I would imagine back when we boarded the plane that took us to this part of the world. You're good at bottling it all up, but even you have your limits and it begins to spill over. For as long as I've known you, you've tended to be in charge of whatever fight you find yourself in, until now. You're being shown up, and being put down. It's new."

"It is a most frustrating circumstance to confront an individual who is able to match you strength for strength, or exploit a weakness that you were previously unaware of. The experience of confidence being demolished is never a happy occasion," Kori put in helpfully.

"It's not about being shown up it's...it is...I don't know!" Cassie so badly wanted to refute it all but some reason couldn't find any argument to use. Weeks, if not months, of frustration was starting to come out and it was making it a little hard to think through it. "What are we even still doing here? We should be back already!"

"Once again, I apologize for my part," Kori said, repeating her apology and looking regretful.

"Once again, we accept your apology, Kori. If I were you, Cassie, I'd have a word with the boys, Red Robin excluded because first, he is not here, and second, he wasn't the first delay we've had," Raven pointed out, giving the blonde teen a nearby target for her to take out her frustrations.

"What were those two idiots thinking, if they even were thinking," Cassie grumbled, directing an irritated look in the general direction where she had last seen the remaining members of their ragtag group.

A part of her had an idea of what was probably the reason for the delay Garfield and Victor had caused, and confirmation of it could only make her frustration worse, not better. This would be true especially if that suspicion was right.

You know what, let's find out.

"Going to question them?" Raven remarked as she watched Cassie abruptly turned on her heel without a second word.

"You know it," Cassie growled.

"Should we be concerned for the wellbeing of Cyborg and Beast Boy?" Kori wondered out loud.

"I wouldn't be," Raven answered, not a single care in the world.

* * *

Lincoln March certainly had a taste for the affluent. The man lived right in a penthouse in downtown Gotham—which certainly wasn't a shabby place to live. Considering he was now the appointed CEO of Wayne Enterprises, it made some sense.

The penthouse was dark, though ambient light from the moon was helping to light the place enough for the Birds of Prey to see without turning on each and every light. Unfortunately, they had a couple guests with them, so there were a lot more bodies searching the place. Glancing from her section, she eyed Talia roaming by the living room's couch, casual walking around it as she performed her own search.

Both Katana and Manhunter were in March's bedroom, so they were out of sight. Black Canary was in the kitchen, but not much was expected to be found there. Instead, the blonde was keeping an eye on Talia for any sudden changes in the woman's demeanor. After what she had down at the Birdcage, they weren't taking any chances with her.

Which left Batgirl roaming about as she pleased. Due to her dark costume, it was hard to get a bead on her. Plus, she was shorter than everyone, so she practically went under everyone's eyesight. Add in to the fact she walked soundlessly like a ghost and you were always jumping when you noticed her either way too closer, or suddenly on the other side of the room.

Still, Huntress wasn't expecting much to come from Batgirl. She was still an investigator-in-training, so finding a lead wasn't likely from her quarter. Standing next to a bookcase, the purple-clad vigilante eyed the books and keepsakes decorating the shelves. Several of the books were about pharmaceuticals and surgical techniques. According to their brief background check on March, the pharmaceuticals weren't all that surprising considering he had run the pharmaceutical department of Wayne Enterprises for a number of years. The surgical aspect was a little odd though.

However, Huntress was starting to notice a trend. There weren't a lot of pictures in the man's penthouse. While that wasn't a dealbreaker by any means, you would think that someone that had lived in Gotham for as long as he had, he would've had some pictures. Of family, friends, hell, even of accomplishments. So far, she hadn't found a thing.

"What have you found there?" Black Canary suddenly called out. Looking to the blonde woman and seeing she was looking towards the other side of the room, Huntress then turned her attention to Talia. It seemed the dark-haired woman had found some sort of book, one that wasn't on March's bookshelf.

Talia didn't answer immediately, instead opening the book and studying it for a moment. "It would appear to be a keepsake," she replied after a moment. "A scrapbook, I assume."

"Let me see," Huntress said as she walked over to the woman. Reaching her, she angled her body to look at the page the other was looking at. From what she could see, it was a page with a couple newspaper articles. One was announcing March's promotion to head of Wayne Enterprises Pharmaceutical branch.

The other actually showed a black and white photograph. There were a few men, one with tiny print below the image indicating who each person was. Lucius Fox was present, along with some random Wayne Enterprises employee she hadn't heard of. March was there too, along with Bruce Wayne, the two shaking hands.

Huntress couldn't help but frown. Aside from a couple differences, like a noticeable height difference, Lincoln March looked very similar to Bruce Wayne. It was almost as if they were brothers rather than employer-employee.

Glancing up to Talia, she inquired, "Doesn't March look a bit like Wayne here?"

It was a good thing she was looking at the dark-haired woman as her eyes narrowed. It wasn't in an analyzing way so much as it was a disapproval one. "I do see a resemblance," she concurred.

She then flipped a page, then another. So far everything was of newspaper clippings, and the one they were looking at was an old article written by Vicki Vale. Just the sight of the name made Huntress feel bad. She had been one of the last people to see the reporter alive, taking off shortly before she was killed. It was a sucky feeling, to be honest.

However, the article she had written was of the connection of the Man-Bat serum to Wayne Enterprises—specifically it's pharmaceutical department. Now that was a giant coincidence, wasn't it. Though it was widely known that Kirk Langstrom had developed the serum with Hugo Strange corrupting the man's research, it seemed Langstrom would have been reporting to March about his progress.

A few more page flips, which revealed a few more articles of rather mundane subjects, Talia began speeding up her flipping until she came to one of the last entries. In bold letters, a headline article announced the recent ouster of Bruce Wayne from Wayne Enterprises. A follow up article named March as the interim CEO in the man's place.

As if Talia wasn't irritated already, the sight of these articles caused her hands to tighten their grip on the album. Huntress couldn't help but observe the reaction. Why would she care about Wayne getting the boot from his company, especially after all the man's incompetence over the years?

Deciding to move along, Huntress then flipped the page, revealing one last article. This was of the Amos Fortune Casino and the fight Batman had there.

Hmm, one of these things was not like the others. What was an article about Batman doing with a whole bunch of headlines about Wayne Enterprises? It was very fishy if you asked her.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a smoking gun here either. "I can't say there's much of anything here," she said as she leaned away from the photo album.

"Perhaps to the casual eye," Talia replied as she shut the album closed.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Talia gave her a haughty look. "March's rise to prominence in Wayne Enterprises is detailed here. It goes right into his takeover, something he clearly relishes. In addition to the battle at the casino at the end, and it's clear he has a vested interest in what is occurring."

Okay, Huntress was certain Talia knew more of what was happening than what she was relaying. That was irritating and the purple-clad woman was not one to accept going further. "You know something about this, don't you?" she accused.

The corner of Talia's mouth twitched up. "I may," she replied coyly.

"Then how about sharing with the rest of the damn class? We're all in this together, honey."

"That is where you are wrong." Setting down the album, Talia looked Huntress right in the eye. "Our goals coincide at this moment, this is true, but we are not equals in this endeavor."

Huntress scowled in response. Oh, she was going to give this prissy little woman a piece of her mind, only to be interrupted. "Hey, guys, I think we found something," Black Canary announced.

Both dark-haired woman whipped their heads to look, finding Black Canary looming over a crouched Batgirl at the front door. Deciding to ignore their "guest," Huntress strode up to her two comrades, finding the welcome mat pushed aside as Batgirl looked at something on the floor.

That's when the young girl raised her hand up, her thumb rubbing against her second and third fingers. What looked like white, maybe grey, dust fell from between her fingers and back to the floor. Frowning, Huntress asked, "What is that? Dirt? Dust? Not exactly a smoking gun."

"That's what I thought too," Black Canary admitted right before she gestured a hand to the rest of the penthouse. "But look at this place. It's really clean, immaculately so. So what's this dirt here doing?"

"This is true," Talia agreed as she came to stand next to them. Her one visible eye studied the dirt. "Are any of you able to get this analyzed?"

"We have people who can do it," Black Canary answered her. At this, Batgirl reached to her belt and pulled out a small ziploc bag. Opening it, she began picking up as much of the powered dirt into the bag as she could. It was a small sample to be sure, but it was better than nothing.

"Then I suggest you get that to them. In the meantime, I must take my leave." Talia then reached to the belt at her waist and pulled out what looked to be a small earpiece, one similar to the ones the Birds already wore. "You can get in touch with me with this."

"And where are you going?" Huntress demanded, glaring at the dark-haired woman.

"I must get home; it is a school night after all. I also have a busy day ahead of me."

_School night?_ What the hell did that mean? Movement from the corner of her eyes alerted her to Batgirl turning her head, looking right at Talia. If she wasn't mistaken, the young girl was glaring as well.

Deciding to ignore Talia for the moment, Huntress asked the young Bat, "So what are you going to do with that sample?"

Batgirl continued to stare at the assassin before she turned her head to look up at the purple-clad vigilante. "I will take to Oracle. She can look into this."

Not to mention Oracle would be more willing to share with the Birds of Prey, communicating with them directly. "Alright, you go deliver that sample. The rest of us will get the heck out of here as well. We'll regroup…"

As she was talking, she glanced towards Talia, only to find the woman had vanished into thin air. Huntress jumped at that, jerking her head from side to side and seeing nothing by the rest of the room. "Oh, don't tell me she knows how to do that too," she complained.

The answer to that was obviously yes.

* * *

"I can't stress this enough, Bruce. You have to be nice. Don't be...you, got it? This is not a man to mess with."

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. Ever since this Jim Corrigan had shown up at his front door, Zatanna had been making a list of rules he had to abide by. She hadn't stopped talking about them, even as he had cleaned up and dressed in more appropriate evening wear. Zatanna had seen to escorting Corrigan to the sitting room so that it didn't look too weird having him stand on his porch for half an hour. That and it was rude to leave someone out there that long. They might up and leave.

Which Bruce had no problem with. Of course, Zana refused such courtesy. The nervous energy she was displaying was getting rather annoying to be honest.

"I got it, Zana," he told her for what had to be the tenth time. "Be respectful, don't be an ass."

"But don't be fake either," she quickly added. "He can see right through that without batting an eye. You should be glad he allowed you to freshen up, you know."

Bruce stopped walking down the hallway, which halted the dark-haired woman in her tracks. "This isn't my first rodeo," he told her sternly. "Now, if you would cut out your nagging, let's get this over with."

Zatanna glared at him. "I swear, I should turn you into a newt and send him out of here."

"Go ahead. You'll have to explain to him why I'm suddenly unavailable after escorting him in."

"See, this is what I'm talking about, you ass. Quit acting like this!"

The dark-haired man smirked. "I thought you liked this about me."

"Not right now, I don't."

Resuming his walking, Bruce soon reached the door to the sitting room, grabbing the door knob and giving it a twist. Opening the door, he entered the room, finding Corrigan sitting on one of the couches, looking a little out of place considering his rather mundane dress.

In comparison, he had a stern looking face, his red hair neatly combed back. Looking up from his seat, he immediately stood up to face the approaching billionaire. "Good evening, Mr. Wayne," he greeted succinctly.

"Many apologies for making you wait," Bruce returned as he reached the man, the two of them raising their hands up as they gave a quick shake. "I had to wash up."

Corrigan nodded. "I imagine you would. Please, have a seat. There are many things we need to discuss."

"So it would appear." Taking the man's invitation—strange considering the offer was made by the guest rather than the host of the house—Bruce took a seat on the couch opposite Corrigan's, Zatanna joining him. "What can I do for you?"

Corrigan stared at him initially, a silence filling the room. If Bruce had to say anything about it, it was more like the man was searching for the best way to proceed rather than being shy. That was fine, he would wait. Next to him, Zana nervously shifted on the couch cushion, inadvertently bumping into him.

"Perhaps it would be best if we cleared the air first," the redhead spoke then. "Especially about your night life."

"I assure you, most of the stories are exaggerated," the billionaire immediately responded, even as he moved an arm around Zana, his hand grabbing onto her shoulder and pulling her closer against him. "Though I must admit tonight is an exception."

Zana immediately shot him a reprimanding look. Bruce merely smirked back at her before looking to Corrigan, who looked unconcerned with their antics. "You misunderstand, Mr. Wayne," he replied. "I wasn't talking about your bedroom activities and more of your responsibilities to your city. After all, there aren't many men that go out into the streets to beat criminals with their fists."

Instantly, Bruce felt his humorous mood sour, though he showed no such sign of it on his face. Already, he knew what this man was inferring and he didn't like it. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "What are you trying to say, Mr. Corrigan?"

"Simply put: I know you're Batman. I've known for a long time that you are and I rather not go into your endless list of excuses as to how you're not. Regardless, your alter ego is not the reason for my visit this night."

Well, that was blunt. Regardless, Bruce wasn't going to let this mystery man dictate this conversation. The last thing he needed was for anyone to leave his house thinking they knew his secret identity. "I'm not sure where you're came up with this idea, but you're sorely mistaken," he responded. "Flattered as I am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I thought you would say something like that. How about we try another tact then? Has anyone ever told you that your aura is unique? Darkness twisted with the unknown? Full of life, yet cloaked with death?"

A chill ran down Bruce's spine even as his stomach dropped. Those words, they were similar to what Dr. Fate had told him during his time in his tower. _Don't tell me…_

"Indeed, I see the same as the good doctor," Corrigan continued, removing all doubt as to who had spoken those words to him. "Do not concern yourself with the where and how of my knowledge; just feel at ease that I have no such compulsion as to revealing your identity to the masses. It's a rather trivial point in this matter."

Fine, he wanted to drop the pretenses? Then so be it. "Why are you here?" Bruce asked him, his voice dropping a couple octaves.

"What did I tell you?" Zatanna hissed at him. "Don't try and—"

"Zatanna Zatara," Corrigan interjected, stopping the magician before her rant hit fever pitch. "I take no offense at his tone. You should know already I have very few sensitivities. Perhaps if you will relax, this conversation will be much more pleasant."

"I'm sorry, Sir," she quickly apologized. "It's just, I know my _friend_ here can be trying at times."

For once, Corrigan smiled. It was small, more bemused than anything. He shook his head as if to rid himself of it. "It's quite alright. Now, to the matter at hand." He looked to the dark-haired couple. "I have been investigating a cult of Barbatos worshipers. I have strong indications they are active within your city."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. He had a sneaky suspicion he know just what this Corrigan was investigating. Looking to Zatanna, he demanded an explanation from her with his eyes.

Fortunately, she got the message. "Bruce, Jim Corrigan is what you call a supernatural investigator. He...runs in some of the same circles as I do. He's kinda like you in that if he's around, then he knows that something has gone down rather than guessing."

Well, he could already guess that much. The way Zatanna was trying to be on her best behavior while forcing him as well told him that. "Then it would be best to compare notes." Pulling his arm away from the magician, he leaned forward on the couch. "There's a cellar in the Bowery that—"

"I've found this cellar," Corrigan interrupted. "It was cleansed by the time I got there."

"You can thank Ra's al Ghul for that. He found the place and had it torn down."

Corrigan narrowed his eyes. "I should have known he would involve himself in this matter." He then looked to Zatanna. "Can you confirm this?"

The dark-haired woman nodded. "Yeah, Ra's asked for us to check the scene with him." She shuddered. "That place was filled with suffering and agony."

"Were you aware of the resurrection spell that took place there?"

Both crime fighters snapped their heads to the man. "Explain," Bruce demanded.

Corrigan was a sharp one, however. "You don't seem to be surprised," he remarked, eyes narrowing.

"Tell us what you know of this spell and we'll tell you our side."

"Very well. When I checked out the cellar, I detected elements of a resurrection spell, and a powerful one too. The caster was invoking a rather advanced ritual, one that ensured compliance by the resurrected."

Again, Bruce and Zatanna glanced to each other. "There's a man in Gotham who goes by the name Hush," the billionaire informed the detective. "He and I were involved in an altercation that resulted in his death. Now though, he's running freely in Gotham."

"I take it he's been antagonistic towards you."

"Among other things. His goal is to strip me of everything. He dug up the body of my butler, ousted me from my family's company, and even tried to take my home. We were able to fend him off the last one."

Corrigan's face hardened at this. "Is there anything else? Any other stressors?"

Bruce shook his head in the negative, only for Zatanna to contradict him a moment later. "Well, he has been suffering these headaches. They seem to spring up at the most random of times. And then there's been a rash of attacks on the city's vigilante community. Multiple attacks by assassins have been reported."

"Is that so." Corrigan fell silent for a moment. "Taking that into consideration along with the activity of your enemy, I have to say I have some doubts."

_Doubts?_ Bruce wasn't sure what the redhead meant by that. "What do you mean?"

"While it is obvious this Hush has a vendetta against you, I doubt he is the ultimate mastermind. His actions of you indicate he is, but the resurrection spell is what stands out. The caster wanted to bring someone back from the dead while keeping them firmly under their thumb. Someone is pulling the strings of Hush and it is them that we need to discover."

That seemed preposterous to the dark-haired man. Thomas Elliot was a sociopath through and through. He never would give someone power of him and use him like a pawn. He had made it quite clear he wanted to be the reason for his downfall. No way would he give someone else that glory.

"You should tell us what you have found in your own investigation then," he suggested, leaning back in his seat.

"Very well," Corrigan acquiesced. "After my initial investigation into the Bowery cellar, I delved into the city's history, looking for clues. Tell me, Mr. Wayne, how familiar are you with your family tree?"

His family tree? What did that have to do with anything? "I believe you've lost me."

"Before I came to meet you tonight, one of my leads led me to some land your family owns, or did own. Records indicate the purchase was made prior to the American Revolution, along with structures that are no longer there. Specifically, a barn had once graced those lands, but it no longer stands save for its foundation." He then looked deeply into Bruce's eyes. "I detected the stench of dark magicks."

Oh, this was getting better and better. So this was why Corrigan had come to visit. He was trying to discern if the Wayne Family was involved in the dark arts. "I can assure you, Mr. Corrigan, that no one of my family has ever been associated with magic."

"No one that you may know, from what I'm gathering. Can you tell me what you know about a Thomas Wayne?"

The frown on Bruce's face deepened, which was then replaced by anger. "Are you insinuating that my father was involved with magic?" he demanded testily.

Corrigan stared at him before he amended, "Perhaps I misread a name. If your father was indeed Thomas, then I gave this ancestor the wrong name."

Though bristling, Bruce nodded his acceptance. There was no way his father would be involved with magic; he was a man of reason, of science. He was renown for his medical expertise, which would have included a healthy skepticism of mystics and charlatans. He allowed the slight of hand with clowns and magicians, but no one pulled a fast one by his father.

"Regardless, I am convinced a distant relative of yours was involved in the dark arts at one point. The remains of the old barn confirm as much," Corrigan continued. "I would say it is safe to say you are unfamiliar with this relative given your reaction."

"That would be correct. My family is full of businessmen and society belles. None held any interest in mysticism. In fact, I would say I'm the first in my entire genealogic line to encounter magic thanks to my time spent with the Zatara Troup."

Corrigan was slow to nod his acceptance. "I'm assuming you mean John Zatara."

"Yes."

"Since we're talking about fathers," Zatanna suddenly interjected, "what about that strange room in your father's study? The one with Home Sweet Home spray painted in it?"

Both men frowned at the magician, though for separate reasons. Bruce's was because he didn't see how that mattered with the current conversation while Corrigan clearly didn't know what she was talking about. Deciding to elaborate, Zatanna said, "There was an attack on Bruce's Batcave, but then we found someone had trashed the house and opened a hidden door in Thomas Wayne's study. It was of this little bedroom that hadn't been used in decades."

"How about you show me this room so that we can determine if it is of substance," Corrigan offered. Seeing no harm behind it, Bruce stood up and led their little group out of the study, following the hallways to the study. Opening the door, the three entered the room, the door to the hidden room closed.

Immediately, Corrigan froze in the room. "Something malevolent has been in here," he spoke, his face becoming more serious than it already was. Bruce studied the redhead for a moment before he walked over to the closed door and opened it. Corrigan approached the door stopping in the threshold as his face crinkled with disgust.

Zatanna was quick to ask, "Is something wrong?" while a worried expression crossed her face.

"I can sense it," the man replied as he held a hand up before him. "The same magical residue I detected at the barn is infesting this room, even after all of this time." The expression on his face darkened. "The man behind it has been here, recently even."

In turn, Bruce's expression darkened. It was hard enough knowing Hush had been up here, but now someone else had not only explored his home, but revealed secrets about it that he didn't? His hands clenched into tight fists at the thought.

"I'm certain now that whomever the mastermind is, he is definitely of the Wayne lineage," Corrigan declared as he backed away from the room. Moving to the nearby desk, the redhead reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he placed it on the desk, his hands pressed on either side of the paper as he held himself over it. Curious, Bruce stepped to the desk and looked at what this mystery man was studying.

To his surprise, it was of a family tree—his to be exact. At one end he found his own name, which was preceded by his father's, and then his grandfather's, Patrick. Kenneth, Alan, Solomon, Charles, Darius, Nathaniel, he read up the line, paying scant attention to the other branches. He couldn't help focusing on the branch he was apart of.

However, most of the other branches splintered out, indicating several families that continued on before dying out well before his birth. That was expected.

That's was when Corrigan jabbed a finger on one branch, one that showed a sibling of Darius Wayne's. If Bruce wasn't mistaken, both siblings were alive at the time of the American Revolution.

That's when the blood in his veins froze. The name, it wasn't a mistake on Corrigan's part. Right there in ink was the name Thomas Wayne. There were no markings indicating he had sired any children; he was just a dead end. Yet, Bruce had no recollection of this Thomas Wayne. He hadn't ever heard of him.

Of course, that's when his phone went off. Breaking the tense silence, the billionaire jumped before his hand shot into his pants pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Lucius' name on the caller I.D. "Sorry, I have to take this," he apologized as both Zatanna and Corrigan stared at him. Stepping away, he answered the call, shoving the phone up against his face. "This is Bruce," he greeted.

"_Bruce, it's Lucius,"_ came the expected reply. _"How are you doing?"_

"Alright, all things considered." Bruce glanced to the two magic users as they poured over Corrigan's document. "Is there something you need?"

"_I need _you_, Bruce,"_ Lucius answered him. _"Remember when I offered to help you with Wayne Enterprises? I said be ready for when I call you. Well, the time is now."_

The young man's head perked up upon hearing this. After everything that had been happening, he had forgotten his business associate was hard at work to help him retake Wayne Enterprises. "When and where?" he finally responded.

"_Tomorrow, ten o' clock. There's a board meeting at 9:30, but I'll be late to it to help get you up to speed. Meet me at my office at nine. I'll leave the door open so just go in. My secretary will find herself otherwise preoccupied at that time to stop you."_

"You got it, Lucius. And thanks." Hearing his old friend's welcome, he then hung up, returning his attention to his guests. "Corrigan, tell me what you can on this Thomas Wayne."

Looking up from the family tree, the redhead answered, "As far as I can tell, he sort of a black sheep. Active in Gotham's social circles at the time, he vanished one day and was never seen again. It didn't seem any of your other relatives looked too deeply into his disappearance."

So on top of everything, a mysterious relative. That would have to wait. "If you wish to continue researching this man, by all means," he told Corrigan. "You can use my father's study, my own study, even the library to see if there's any other evidence on this man."

"I would appreciate that, thank you," the man responded.

"And what are you going to do about this?" Zatanna asked as she looked to him.

"As you can guess, that was Lucius on the phone," Bruce told her. "And it looks like it's time for our counterattack."


	20. Changing Fortunes

Changing Fortunes

Lucius' plan was a stroke of genius. Bruce knew the man was competent, not to mention savvy. But this was underhanded and cutthroat, a side of the business executive he hadn't seen too much over the years. There were hints to be sure, but nothing on this grand a scale.

Lucius had briefed him on the plan and the billionaire had stayed in the man's office as he reviewed everything. Lucius had done everything, covered every last detail to ensure nothing could go wrong. He made for an incredible proxy. He would have loved to reviewed with him longer, but the board meeting demanded he show up eventually.

Which was okay. As long as the dark-haired man joined the meeting before it ended, this coup would work even with a monkey at its helm. A phone in hand, Bruce ended the call as he set the phone back on the receiver. He now had a ticking clock, one designed for maximum theatricality.

Standing up from Lucius' desk, Bruce exited the office, a manila folder in hand. He ignored the shocked look on Lucius' secretary's face as he walked past her desk, following familiar hallways to the board room.

However, just outside of the door was an unexpected guest, one that caused him to slow his pace considerably. Waiting right outside of the boardroom was Talia, dressed professionally in a blazer and pencil skirt. "Good Morning, Mr. Wayne," she greeted him warmly.

"What are you doing here, Talia?" Bruce immediately questioned her, a frown appearing on his face.

"I was informed by your associate, Mr. Fox, of a meeting between you and your former Board. I wished to join the meeting in support of you."

This caused the dark-haired man to raise an eyebrow. "While I appreciate the gesture, I rather doubt the Board will allow you to stay."

His doubt didn't remove the expression from her face. "Did Mr. Fox not inform you of his gambit? Or had he failed to mention that I was one of the investors in his scheme?"

Failed was a strong word. Perhaps omitted was a better one. Regardless, Lucius had said that people he could trust had joined them in this venture. Bruce just hadn't realized Talia was one of those people. "He mentioned some help," he acknowledged.

"Then know my assistance is a large part of your plan." At this, Talia walked towards him, coming to a stop in front of him. She looked up at him, her visible eye staring at him lovingly. Reaching her hands up, she took a hold of his tie and straightened it. "You can count on me, Beloved."

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched up, a very small smile forming on his face. "Thank you." He then stepped to one side of the dark-haired woman, raising his arm up, which she immediately accepted as she hooked her own with his. Together, they walked to the double doors, not even pausing before opening them.

Greeting them was the sight of the Wayne Board of Directors, and the full board at that. All of them were looking at him, curious at first, then various looks of incredulousness, confusion, and in two cases anger. "What's the meaning of this?" Dithers demanded as he scowled at the couple, rising up from his seat.

"Sit back down, Dithers," Bruce responded as he and Talia approached the table, coming to a stop at the table's head—and not coincidentally next to Lucius. "We have a matter to bring to the Board."

Tommy Elliot looked at the two from his place next to Lucius. It seemed his former friend had taken it upon himself to change the seating order, moving himself to the head of the table, though it was obvious he wasn't able to remove Lucius from his spot. "I rather doubt that," he spoke snidely. "After all, you have no stake in this company and the woman at your side refused to do business with us. As far as I'm concerned, you're trespassing."

"I suppose you want security to remove them from the building," Lucius suggested.

"Absolutely!" Dithers exclaimed. "This room is for board members only and neither one of them is one!"

"I agree," Brian Jennings agreed before reaching a hand out to a little intercom towards the middle of the table. It was one of a few considering how long the table was. Pressing a button on it, he said, "Gloria, I want you to call security and have them remove Mr. Wayne and Ms. Head from the building."

Gloria answered quickly in the affirmative. This didn't faze Bruce in the slightest. Instead he dropped his arm to his side, Talia's falling to her own as well. "While we wait, I suggest you all listen to me. This won't take very long."

"We don't have to listen to a word you say, Wayne," Elliot replied, leaning back in his seat, cool and relaxed. It was clear he believed he held all of the cards. "You'd be doing yourself a favor by leaving before security gets here."

"I don't think so." Bruce straightened his postured, rolling his shoulders back. "I'm invoking Article VI, subsection viii."

Though Elliot didn't react, the rest of the Board looked to each other with looks of confusion. "Really, Bruce?" Elliot asked him incredulously. "You want a stockholder vote? On what?"

The vote, as Elliot had so eloquently put it, was part of Wayne Enterprises Stockholder's Bill of Rights. It gave every stockholder a vote on any matter, so long as a stockholder requested one.

"More importantly, you can't make that request," Dithers interjected. "Per the article in question, you have to have a majority of voting stockholders to even put up a vote. Though you still have stock in this company, the last I checked, you have a measly ten percent stake."

At this, Bruce held out the manila folder, plopping it on the table. "Right here is a list of all the stockholders in Wayne Enterprises. You're right, Dithers, that I only have a ten percent ownership. That was a mistake on my part for selling my stock options over the years."

As he spoke, Lucius picked up the folder and opened it, pulling out the papers with in. "However," Bruce continued, "you'll notice many of the other stockholders are various charitable foundations and trusts and so forth, all of which _I_ own."

"Let me see that," Dithers spat out as he reached to Lucius and snatched the papers out of his hands. Looking over them, he began to say, "What are you talking about, none of these are—"

Bruce moved behind the man and jabbed his finger at one such name. "The Martha Wayne Foundation for the Performing Arts." He moved to another name. "Solomon Wayne City Development Fund. Wayne Family Trust. I can go on, Dithers. Now be quiet, you're wasting my time."

Several eyes widened at his rejoinder to the Cryptkeeper, though none protested. Instead, Elliot held his hand out to Dithers. "Let me see," he simply said, to which Dithers slid the documents to him. Picking them up, Elliot read them, seeming to scan them over quickly.

That's when a triumphant look appeared on his face. "Nice try, Bruce, but according to this, factoring all of your allege trusts and foundations, you only have a thirty six percent ownership, well short of the fifty one needed."

"I second Mr. Wayne's vote," Talia suddenly spoke up. She then directed a look right at Dithers. "I too am a stockholder. Twenty percent, if you must know."

"That would be fifty six percent," Lucius remarked as he looked to Elliot. "I believe they have a quorum."

By now, a frown had appeared on Elliot's face. Already he was trying to figure out what Bruce's intent was. The Wayne heir wouldn't let him wait for long. "Now that all of your objections are moot, I would like to put to vote a resolution entailing a lack of faith in the current membership of the Board of Directors."

There were gasps. There were looks of incredulousness. Then there was Dithers sputtering in his seat. "How dare you, you moronic twit!" he all but screamed. "We are working to clean up _your _mess that _you_ created!"

"Work that has caused a devaluation in the company's stock?" Bruce returned evenly.

"We were fully expecting that," Laura Granger countered. "In fact, the devaluation has been less than predicted."

"And the loss of business?"

"We haven't lost any business," Granger responded.

"I beg to differ," Talia said. "You already lost a proposal with Head Development. There are a number of articles online that report others have withdrawn proposals. I can give you five off the top of my head if you wish."

Elliot shook his head. "This is all absurd." He then looked at Bruce and Talia. "What do you hope to accomplish? A loss of faith won't do you any good."

"Correction, you mean you," Bruce countered. "A loss of faith opens the floor to removal of board members; in this case, all of you. In conjunction with this vote, I am advancing a plan to dismantle the Board of Directors and appoint a new CEO with conditional authority to privatize Wayne Enterprises."

"You can't be serious?!" Brian Jennings shouted. "Wayne Enterprises can't survive that sort of move! Who would even be the CEO?"

Bruce leveled the man with a cool look. "I would be."

"No, I won't allow it!" Dithers bellowed. "This vote will not—"

"I can and will," Bruce cut him off, dropping his down an octave. "The Board doesn't have a vote, only the stockholders. If you own stock, then you can vote."

"You bet your ungrateful ass I do," Dithers sneered at him. "And I vote nay on this."

"I believe it's safe to say all of the present board members vote against this resolution," Bruce surmised. "As for Ms. Head and I, we vote yay."

"I indeed do," Talia agreed.

There was a moment of silence. "Well, I believe you've fallen short," Elliot said then. "In order for such a resolution to pass, you need more than a majority, but a super-majority. "You've fallen short of that sixty percent, Bruce."

"Not necessarily," Lucius said then, which caused the entire room to look to him. "All stockholders need to vote on this and I do believe we're missing a few."

"I rather doubt that would matter much," Elliot disagreed. "So there's no point in calling all of them."

"It wouldn't hurt to try." Lucius then reached to the intercom in front of him, hitting the button on it. "Gloria, please patch in the caller on Line 3."

A couple moments later and a ringing sound was made before the distinct sound of a phone picking up was made. _"This is Andrea Beaumont with Beaumont Accounting."_

Bruce couldn't help but shoot an incredulous look to Lucius at that. How many of his exes had he involved in this coup? It was then he recalled something Andrea had told him once.

_"If...if there is anyone you can trust, trust Lucius Fox."_

It seemed his former beau had been prophetic.

"Thank you, Ms. Beaumont," Lucius greeted her. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but there is a matter with Wayne Enterprises that requires your attention. A vote is taking place that will result in the removal of the Board of Directors and insert Bruce Wayne as the company CEO. We need only a yay or nay vote from you."

"_I see. On behalf of Beaumont Accounting, I vote our fourteen percent yay."_

Stunned silence filled the room. Bruce allowed this to go on for a while, milking it for what it's worth, even as Lucius thanked Andrea for her time and hung up. "By my count, that's seventy percent. I've taken _my_ company back." At this, he stared Elliot in the face, a dark, seething look on his face.

By then, the doors to the board room opened and security began to file in. However, instead of walking to Bruce, each officer moved to stand behind each and every board member, each one looking to the moving officers. "Effective now, I am stripping each and every member of the Board of Directors of their position in the company. As the newly appointed CEO, you are hereby terminated. You are to be escorted out of the building right now. Your offices will be cleaned out and all personal effects returned to you."

Bruce then leaned towards the table, placing his hands on its cool surface. "Now listen to me, and listen to me good." A scowl worked its way onto his face. "I highly advise you to take your job searching anywhere but Gotham. Wayne Enterprises will not be a reference for you; in fact, your ouster of me has effectively made you poison to any prominent corporation, so I rather doubt you'll ever enjoy a position of power that you've now just lost. Sure, you could start up your own company, but I promise you, I will always be there to crush your fledgling start-ups. How_ dare_ you take away the company my family spent generations building." He then leaned further over the table. "Life is about to get very hard for all of you. You'll never work in Gotham again, I'll make sure of that. Hell, you can forget about ever working in the New England area again. As you're escorted out of the building, you're going to find yourselves mobbed by every reporter in the city, photographers snapping your pictures for the tomorrow's headline. I'm personally paying each and every newspaper and media site to put your disgraceful exit on their front page."

He then leaned away, standing straight up. "And now, as my first official act as CEO, security: escort this scum out of my building."

To his pleasure, his security force was none too gentle. They pulled each board member's chair away from the table and hauled them onto their feet. Women, old fragile men, it didn't matter. They were practically manhandled.

"Oh, wait a moment," Bruce suddenly spoke up, looking to Lucius. "I find myself without a president at the moment. Mr. Fox, I would like to offer you the position."

"I would be delighted," Lucius accepted, his arms having been restrained by the security officer behind his back as he stood.

Looking to the officer, Bruce said, "You can let him stay." Without so much as changing his expression, the officer released Lucius, who stumbled a step before regaining his balance. With a jerk of his head to the door, the rest of the board was dragged out, stumbling in their dress shoes and high heels. The billionaire particularly watched as Tommy Elliot was removed, the man glaring daggers at him before he passed through the doorway. Oddly enough, Bruce noted, his arm wasn't in a cast or sling, instead being roughly grabbed by the security officer. There wasn't even so much as a flinch.

Soon, it was only Bruce, Talia, and Lucius left in the room. Surveying the carnage left in the wake of the Board's ouster, the dark-haired man then turned to his two confidants and asked, "So who's up for lunch?"

* * *

It was so nerve wracking returning back to the marina, and the sight of the yacht was both a welcome and dreaded sight. Thanks to the daylight, he could see the black scorch marks at the back of the large boat, a reminder of his current status of stranded. He wasn't about to change that status anytime soon.

At least Barbara was getting some stuff moved around so it could get fixed. Victor had gotten back to him about the damages, allowing him to relay it directly to his personal Santa Claus. In the meantime, while waiting for everything to happen, he would need to make sure that nothing sank the boat or a shitty day would get more shittier.

Walking down the pier, the teenaged male was able to gaze upon the damaged seafaring vessel and feel a slight twinge of despair. If he could keep this on the down low, then perhaps this could be kept under Batman's radar. The absolute last thing anybody needed right now was the Dark Knight himself following through on his ultimatum.

With footsteps clacking against the wooden boards of the marina docks, Tim took a deep breath and readied himself for getting everything into order on board. Recalling Dick's words, he squared his shoulders and he made his intentions known to himself that he was going to be taking charge of this group of personalities until they got back to Jump.

As he approached the yacht, psyching himself up one last time, a certain blonde-haired girl stepped off and spotted him. Tim kept his face blank, though he wondered what was coming his way when he saw that Cassie had started a beeline in his direction. Looks like taking charge was going to have to wait a bit, or maybe this could be a trial run. Who knew?

"Cassie," he greeted, coming to a stop while the blond bombshell of a teen slowed her pace.

"You're back. We need to talk," Cassie stated, her blue eyes serious.

Ah yeah, the words no guy ever wants to hear. It was a good thing there weren't dating, right? Right, well, that still didn't change the fact that the two of them needed to clear the air.

"Let's take a walk," is what he said, jerking his head in a random direction. Let it also not be said that he didn't want anyone with sensitive hearing to overhear anything.

Cassie gave him a nod and Tim found himself walking away from the yacht. The blonde teen came up along his side, matching his pace with her own. Hands in his pockets, the dark-haired teen waited to allow some distance to be put between the two of them and their floating base of operation.

Reaching concrete-covered land and taking a turn, the pair continued on their walk, Tim still waiting a moment to allow more distance before speaking up. "What's going on?"

While Cassie had sounded urgent earlier, she did not immediately jump on the offer to speak. When she did, "I thought I could handle it."

Tim felt his brow furrow, confusion painting his face. "Handle what?"

It was hard to tell if that was a sigh he heard, because as Cassie exhaled, he could hear what sounded like a growl, a snarl, or something to that effect. What wasn't uncertain was that whatever she was feeling, it was powerful. In his experience, strong emotions tended to make the blonde girl's mood swing quite a lot.

"Handle...this!" Cassie gestured with a hand, though everything in eyesight was just the marina. Tim figured that whatever "this" was, it wasn't the immediate area. "This stuff you do. Trying to be a good guy and a hero, but its, its, its been…"

"I get it," he cut in, and that wasn't a lie he said. The hero thing had always been the one topic that everyone knew about but didn't talk about. To put it into words would be like to simplify it way too much.

"How do you do it?" Cassie had turned on him, coming to a stop, and boring those so blue eyes of hers into him. "How do you do all of this and not lose it?"

"You're not going to like the answer," the dark-haired teen told her, facing her and making eye contact. He in no way wanted her to have even a shred of doubt that he was holding anything back.

"So what is it?" she demanded.

"How doesn't mean shit, it's why. As to that, I do this hero thing because I'm fighting for something bigger than myself. I know it wouldn't be done in a day or a week. It's not a school assignment. This will be something that takes years to do, and as you can see, just because you take the kid out of Gotham, you don't take Gotham out of the kid. I found I couldn't just drop it, especially when I kept seeing all the bad of Gotham in Jump, just minus the crazy maniacs and substitute it with cultists and aliens. Once you're committed, you give up any semblance of a normal life."

That Cassie didn't say anything immediately meant she was thinking over his words. It was no secret that she was highly opinionated and she would let you know what she thought. While the blonde could learn some tact, the bluntness could be welcome under the right circumstances.

"I...I don't really get it. What do you mean by bigger than yourself? That sounds like something a douche would say, no offense. You can be douchey, yeah, but I've learned to tolerate that. But please, don't get that holier than thou attitude, it's a turn off. Just, what are you fighting for?"

Tim didn't really know what he was expecting, but he did appreciate the honesty. Looking off to a side, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Yeah, that did sound douchey. Honestly, when you get down to it, my family was a victim of violent crime and I didn't want them to have to go through it again. It just grew bigger from there so include everyone else. Yeah, end of the day, it was a bit self-centered. But that's how I got here. I just can't take it when I see someone doing something wrong and not getting punished for it."

"That explains why you chased me all over the city." He could hear the wry tone in her voice, reminiscing over how they had first met. He didn't remember it as fondly, probably because he was still trying to figure out the whole vigilante good guy thing in a new city.

It wasn't as easy as one would hope, especially when you ran into someone like Cassie during the first few days of getting back into shape.

"We both know it wasn't all over the city," he muttered. He didn't mention how some behavior that might be called "stalking" was involved. Instead, "It's exciting, you know. Once you get started, and everything is so new, you want to do it more. Then one day you get some sweet toys, then the next thing you know, you're tied to a chair, a maniac has taken off your mask, and you gotta get the hell out of Dodge. That's when you know, if you haven't figured it out, that this isn't a game, you are putting others in danger as well as yourself. It's...it's not a good feeling."

Cassie was uncharacteristically quiet, which allowed Tim to continue. Looking at her from the corner of his eye, "If you want to get out, you need to do it as soon as possible, before the life latches into you and then you can't. You won't ever be able to go back to an old, normal life. You'll always have the urge to get back into it until you give in. If you have doubts, listen to them, don't ignore them."

"Save myself, huh?" There was no mention about any doubts or if it was too late. Then again, he hadn't asked and figured it wasn't his place to ask.

"Yeah, and no, I'm not trying to make it sound like a joke. There really is no going back. For perspective, not even Batman can get you to change your mind about it."

The blonde teen became somber. "He's not the easiest guy to work with, is he?"

"Yes and no. You want him on your side, but you have to do what he wants. If you have a problem with any of that, you won't last long." Nothing but the truth there, and he could see that he was believed without needing explained. That fight last night was more than enough explanation.

Cassie looked like there was something she wanted to say, something that was related to how the conversation was going. Hell, she had begun to open her mouth but then she stopped. That was curious, and Tim waited for her to speak her mind. Surprisingly, that wasn't going to happen.

"So what's the plan to getting out of here? I know when I'm...when we're not wanted. Gonna be kinda hard using the boat and everything." Obviously, she was trying to change the subject with a poor segue. For as long as he had known her, Tim knew that given enough time, Cassie would eventually say what was on her mind. She wasn't the type to keep something bothering her to herself, especially if she felt someone else was to blame. So he would give the blonde girl this one, figuring that she'd open up about it in time.

"Someone I used to work with here is working to get us some replacement parts, all we need to repair the engine. Once we get the parts, Victor will get it all together and then we'll leave."

"And what makes you think Victor will be able to fix a boat engine?" There we go, the usual challenging retorts and question. To think he was almost starting to miss it.

"I've been noticing how he's been looking into his body, playing around with it, and figuring out all he's capable of. It wouldn't take much for him to download the information he needs and go from there. Plus, I've been noticing the car magazines he's been leaving around your place. Sure, it might be cliché, but he is on his own and it would be in his best interest to look into mechanics and engineering." There was his logic, what would be the retort?

"I keep telling him to pick those magazines up," Cassie groaned. "The only thing I really agree with is that it would be cliché, but it's not as if anyone else has been interested. If this is our best bet, so be it."

Instead of challenging her, Tim felt it best to go along. "Better get back then, before someone else decides to leave the boat and go back into the city. I don't feel like chasing anyone else down right now."

"Right," Cassie growled. They both knew what he was referencing.

For once, they were both in agreement about something, and what that meant could be looked into for another time.

* * *

Though it was early for lunch—brunch would have been a proper word for it actually—Bruce and his small entourage found themselves in a secluded room in one of the upscale restaurants downtown. Just the mention of his name allowed the three to be escorted through the main dining area and into the smaller, more intimate setting.

Appetizers had been served along with drinks, though neither Bruce, Talia, or Lucius had delved in. Oh sure, one would pause for a bite, but most of the food was left untouched.

"Congratulations, Bruce," Lucius said as he tipped his cup to the younger man. "Though I have to admit you were rather blunt in there. I'm pretty certain none of the Board will see you the same way again."

"More like at all," the dark-haired man retorted. "I meant what I saw on having them blacklisted. Sure, the ones like Dithers will just retire and that's that, but the younger ones like Granger and Jennings will find it very inconvenient. They'll have to uproot their families after exhaustive job searches. I can't imagine the strain they're about to go under."

"Don't forget March," the older man pointed out. "He fits those young template."

Bruce just gave the man a deadpanned look. "What about March," he said dismissively.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at that. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"And if you do, know that you won't have to travel far for work," Talia interjected, a playful smile on her face. "I would gladly have someone of your expertise working for me."

The dark-skinned man looked to the woman. "Depending on your offer, I may just join you here and now."

"Hey now, don't poach my best man," Bruce joked. Well, it wasn't really a joke. He had no desire for Lucius to be working for the Demon's Fang in any capacity, whether the older man knew he was working for them or not. He could already tell Talia was impressed with the man that her offer would be a serious one.

"Regardless of where I'm at, work begins now for you, Bruce," Lucius said to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Without the Board in place, you will have to take a more active hand with Wayne Enterprises. The company will live and die on your actions and words. Act the way that led up to the Board ousting you and I promise it will go down in flames."

"But that's why I have you, Lucius. To help pick up my slack."

Lucius took a sip from his glass, then lowered it to the table. A serious look was on his face. "Bruce, no. I won't do this dance anymore, where you make yourself an absentee owner. You pull that stunt again and I will leave."

Bruce was struck by the seriousness in his old friend's tone. "That may be more difficult than you or I anticipate," he hesitantly said.

"So what? You never used to be this way. You were invested in Wayne Enterprises before you had your three-year trip. I know, you were grieving the loss of Alfred, but, rest his soul, he's been dead for years now. You can't keep using him as a crutch to ignore your obligations, no matter what passing fancy comes your way."

The mention of Alfred was like a slap to the face. Already the fact his butler's body was still in the clutches of Hush. Never mind that he had other obligations that had distracted him from running Wayne Enterprises, Lucius knew all—

"And yes, I am aware of your adoption of that young girl," Lucius spoke. "And while that is a major undertaking, you're just going to have to learn how to juggle it along with everything else."

"Adoption?" Talia questioned, her eyes darting from one man to the other and back before focusing on Bruce. "I did not know you had a young one at home."

Oh, Talia knew about Cassandra. It seemed she was unaware of the adoption process, however. "Yes, though she's really not young. A moody teenager now, actually."

He could see the gears in Talia's mind turning before they clicked into place. Though her face didn't show it, her eyes lit up with realization. "I believe I would like to meet this young woman then. After all, it has been some time since we have enjoyed each other's company. I can bring my child and see if they can get along."

Oh, and Hell would freeze over. Though he had only met Damian once, he still vividly recalled the scowl on the boy's face. However, Lucius was right that he needed to learn to handle his life better. He had a child with Talia and he hadn't done anything to get in contact with them since the end of Bane's reign of terror. It was time he remedied that. "I would like that," he told her, much to Talia's surprise, said emotion writing itself over her face. "I'll call you later in the week to set something up."

"Yes, do that," she encouraged warmly. "I would very much like that."

"Not to interrupt here, but there is a little bit of business I would like to discuss with the both of you," Lucius said then, earning the dark-haired couple's attention. "It concerns the stocks you own, Ms. Head. I was wondering if you would be willing to sell your shares to either Bruce, or Wayne Enterprises."

It was Talia's turn to pick up her glass and take a dainty sip. Swallowing, she then eyed the older man with bemusement. "Actually, I will be holding onto the stock. I'm certain that with Bruce back in control, their value will increase."

Lucius seemed taken back by that. "I must insist. While it was kind of you to assist us like you have, I wouldn't want to beholden you any further. If there's a time for you to step back, it's now."

"And I appreciate your kind gesture." Talia then eyed Bruce before returning her attention to Lucius. "But there are a few matters that Bruce and I have to work through. Just think of my continued investment in your company as my way of supporting your future endeavors."

In other words, Talia wanted to keep a tight grip on Bruce any way she could. It was smart of her to, the young man admitted. Stumped, Lucius slowly nodded his acceptance. "Very well, Ms. Head. I hope we increase the value of your investment exponentially."

"Of that, I have no concern." Talia then picked up her napkin and used it to clean her mouth. "Now if you excuse me, I have some of my own business matters to attend to. It was nice meeting you again, Mr. Fox." Then she looked to Bruce, a coy smile rowing her face. "Bruce."

Then she stood up and sauntered away, both men watching her go until she disappeared from the room. "She's a dangerous woman, Bruce," Lucius commented.

_You have no idea._

"I'd like to thank you again for helping me out of this pickle, Lucius," Bruce thanked him for what must have been the hundredth time. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Lucius shook his head. "No, I'm sure you would have come to this plan eventually. All I did was put it into place while you enjoyed your nights."

"Lucius, you know my night life is greatly exaggerated. I hardly go out anymore as it is."

"Oh, the clubbing and parties, you're right. But that wasn't what I was referring to."

_Huh?_ "Then what were you talking about?"

Lucius looked him in the face. "You know what I'm talking about, Bruce. It's the reason for your late nights, your tardiness for early morning meetings, your neglecting Wayne Enterprises in the first place, and the real reason why you were gone for three years following the Great Gotham Fire."

No, Lucius was not saying what he was saying. He simply couldn't be. "I don't believe I'm following you," he said slowly.

The expression on Lucius face dropped into one that said, "Really?" "Bruce, I've known you your whole life. I know when you're happy, when you're sad, and when you're hurt. And you've known me for just as long, so you know I'm not an idiot. I've known how you've really been spending your nights for a long time now."

He paused to take another sip of his drink. "It's no coincidence that supplies from our storage buildings go missing, not to mention it's equipment usually found in the utility belt of this city's vigilante. Then there's the use of our more advanced technologies, like a frequency that draws in bats, or a cape that becomes a glider when an electric current is run through it."

This was going from bad to worse with every word the man said. And Lucius was right, he wasn't an idiot. It was almost insulting to insinuate otherwise. So he gave in as he asked, "How long?"

"Have I known? I suspected as much when the vigilante walked right up to me and asked about a top secret Wayne Enterprises project. I just paid attention to you following some of the big crises this city's has faced and just knew."

So, since the Night of Ice. God, that was a long time now and Lucius had never uttered a single word. If that didn't speak to his loyalty, then he didn't know what did. "So now what?"

"Now? You do exactly what I've been telling you: balance your life. Between a billion-dollar company, your night life, and the family you're starting, you have to."

"It's not as easy as you make it sound."

"You did before; before you left Gotham for whatever reason you did."

"I had help," Bruce admitted as he took a deep gulp of his drink. "I had Alfred."

That gave the older man pause. "So it was Alfred that kept you balanced? How?"

Bruce gave the man a look. It took a moment before Lucius began to chuckle. "Oh, right. It was Alfred." He then sighed. "Perhaps I should have followed his example rather than rely on you to take the initiative. That was my mistake it seems."

"Don't blame yourself for how everything has gone down. I'm just as much to blame, if not more. You've been warning me all of this time and my chickens finally came to roost."

"Oh, you better believe I'm blaming you. Don't mistake my admitting fault as absolving you."

Bruce chuckled. "Fair enough." He paused as he considered his next words. Since Lucius seemed to already know…

"Lucius, someone's taken Alfred's body," he told the other man, who's eyes widened. "That's been...distracting me the last week. I...I know I'm having trouble concentrating as long as he isn't safe."

Lucius seemed troubled by this before slowly nodding his acceptance. "I suppose I can continue to cover for you for a time. Don't think I'll be this lenient going forward though. Alfred was my friend as well. Do what you have to, but just know we have a lot of work to do to steady this ship."

"Thank you, Lucius. I promise you this: I won't fail you again."

* * *

It was like losing Elliot Pharmaceuticals all over again. Like then, Elliot's anger simmered, boiling under the surface until it became a seething rage.

This time, he had to give begrudging credit where it was due; gaining a supermajority of stocks had been a very subtle and effective ploy. It shouldn't have been surprising that Lucius Fox had been a part of the scheme, probably played a major role in it too. The former surgeon had erred in keeping that man around, even though based on how low keyed it was, there was little he could have done to prevent this loss.

This could have been set up years in advance and kept hush hush until a moment like this.

It was clever, truly clever, but even his admiration of it would not stop his hatred from growing. It all put him in a very uncomfortable position because losing Wayne Enterprises was _not_ part of the plan. Hurt was going to want an explanation.

Perhaps that was why he was laying low until the last moment. He sprawled in a chair, his posture atrocious and would have had his dear mother scolding him, may that witch burn in Hell. Both arms were hanging over the sides of the armrests. Thanks to Hurt's little rejuvenation spell, he had experienced a faster recovery of his fractured arm. A small mercy.

However, he wasn't alone; nearby in her own seat was a slip of a girl with the blankest expression one could ever see on her face. A table was placed between the two of them, a small styrofoam cup half-full with almost stone cold coffee.

The girl, Ace, had said nothing to him, and Hush could barely recall if he even knew what she sounded like. The rest of her Royal Flush cohort were loud and rowdy, but not her. That made her a superior choice to sit in silence with, stewing at this latest failure.

Stewing, though, was not going to accomplish anything. He wasn't stupid; Hurt was going to exact some form of punishment. Based on past observation, he knew that once he gained momentum, Bruce would be able to turn a bad situation around, no matter how dire, and begin achieving victory after victory. The element of surprise was long lost as now his former friend would be expecting another attack. After the ambush in his cave, Bruce should be anticipating every part of his operation to be targeted and should be taking precautions to cover his weak points.

It stood to reason that he should be doing the same.

Focusing his attention on the slight girl, he commented, "You like to keep to yourself, don't you? I understand; the others are much too…loud."

Predictably, Ace was still silent. She didn't even give any signs that she had heard or was listening to him.

"They're young, self-absorbed. Loyalty is not one of their better traits. Odds are, if given the chance, they would throw you under the bus. Anything to give themselves an advantage, or just to make themselves look good." Still nothing, but he continued talking, as if he was speaking more to himself than anyone in particular. "I know people like that, knew them. The others are really no different from ordinary people in that regard. I can imagine there are those involved in this operation that would love nothing more than to see myself go down in flames."

Hush paused, gathering his thoughts. Thinking about the past, his own board of directors, Bruce, other pawns that had been taken under his wing, he allowed it all to harden his resolve. "I've learned, the hard way, that you have to look after yourself, because no one else will do it for you. Even then, it's better to have someone watching your back. More eyes and all.

"I know that once everything is finished here, Hurt will have no further reason to keep me around. Knowing his type, he discards anyone that is no longer useful instead of saving them for a rainy day. I am expendable. With that same logic, everyone here, excepting Hurt, is expendable. Including you. He's nothing like Batman, who's gone so far as to adopt some orphan girl and treat her as his own for no other reason than becoming attached to her. A man like him is loyal, willing to give everything to protect those he cares about. Even his enemies he tries to save."

Ace continued to show no overt signs that she was listening, but Hush was able to pick out something. While her body language was more silent than a mute, and her face remained so expressionless that it made dolls look like open books, her head was turned ever so microscopically in his direction, an ear angled so as to hear him better.

He had her attention.

"If we're to protect ourselves, we need to have to have each other's backs, plain and simple. For people like us, there's no other choice. Well, actually there is, but it doesn't end well. So, either we look after one another, or risk becoming pawns discarded at the first opportunity. I know, that of the five of you, you're the one with the real power. In spite of that, you are still just another pawn. All it takes is a second, and then you're discarded like all the other trash. You can't tell me you haven't noticed the other pawns dropping off.

"But there is a way we can still come out of this in one piece. The both of us. It will require a lot of perfect, precision timing, taking advantage of existing situations, and playing the roles assigned to us, but if we do this right, we'll both get the one thing we really want, the one thing that we would kill for."

By now, Hush was leaning forward in his seat, looming over the small table between himself and the slip of a girl. His eyes were nearly manic, but his voice remained calm and in control. He was not yet done speaking, but this next part needed to be said in a careful way.

Pushing his chair back, Hush stood up yet bent over, moving his upper body closer to little Ace. When his mouth was close to her ear, he uttered a single word.

"Freedom."

Pulling back, the former C.E.O. eyed the girl carefully. Though she had yet to move a muscle, her eyes had moved to return his gaze. So empty they were, but he had her attention all the same.

Hmm, if you shrunk the eyes and lengthened them, removed some of the baby fat, and grew out her inky black hair, she would almost resemble that girl Bruce had taken in, the one that wore the mantle of Batgirl. Wouldn't that be something, to have a sidekick of his own.

Sitting back down and crossing his arms over his chest, the bandage-wearing man said, "If you want in, all you need to do is let me know. I'll handle the planning, and all you need to do is follow my instructions. I won't ask you to do anything that I myself wouldn't. More importantly, I will ensure you won't be hurt. Think about it."

Now all he needed to do was wait, wait and see—

"Okay."

Hush blinked, caught off guard by the so very soft voice that he could have sworn that he misheard. Hell, had anyone actually said anything?

But Ace had turned her head, maintaining eye contact with him. It could have only been her who had spoken. Funny, the rest of the loudmouths gave him a headache, but this one was much more preferable to listen to, if only because her whisper of a voice was much easier on the ears and not as rambunctious.

It was a very welcome surprise.

And here he was, a man who had never been good with kids.

Closing his eyes, Hush took in a deep breath through his nose while his lips curved into a smirk.


	21. Planting an Ace

Planting an Ace

The news had been on constant loop. If the world had been stunned by the dismissal of Bruce Wayne from Wayne Enterprises, it was damn near catatonic by the sudden termination of its board and the company being returned to the Wayne heir.

It went without saying the media—graciously alerted by the billionaire prior—had swamped the steps of the Wayne Tower as the Board was escorted out. A couple members had tried to get back in the building and were promptly apprehended. Those members had then been unceremoniously tossed into the street by several of the security officers.

Bruce knew what would come next. Several of the board members would sue Wayne Enterprises for wrongful termination, demand their jobs back, and so forth. Lucius had agreed with his thoughts when they had convened at the end of the day.

However, while his long time business partner had arranged this coup, it was Bruce who had the dirt on each and every board member. For every one that sicced their lawyers on him, they would find their darkest secrets paraded on the 24-hour news cycle. They didn't know it was coming, but they would be finding out very shortly.

Bruce honestly couldn't wait for that.

Of course, Tommy Elliot had vanished into thin air, no doubt heading back to whatever rock he had crawled out from under. If Bruce had been of sound mind, he would've placed a tracer on the man as he was escorted out of Wayne Tower. For now he would forgive himself for that lapse since the reclamation of his family business was a personal matter. Bruce Wayne could handle personal.

Batman, on the other hand, would handle the business aspect.

Returning to the manor, Bruce parked his car in the garage, one that housed several collectables. Killing the engine, he climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him, then headed for the door. Entering his house, he stalked the halls with his briefcase in hand until he reached his study.

At least, he was planning on going there. Just as he turned the last corner and the door came into sight, Zatanna suddenly popped out of thin air. "Bruce, you're home!" she greeted him before she was at his side, arms wrapping around one of his. "Perfect timing. Corrigan and I have something to show you."

Finding himself diverted, Bruce allowed himself to be dragged down a different hallway. Coincidentally, they were following the graffiti from the break-in. It didn't take too much thought to realize where they were going, though the dark-haired man made a mental note to get the graffiti cleaned up soon. It still marred the floor and walls like an ugly scar.

Reaching his father's study, the two entered the room, finding Corrigan seated in his father's chair. Something about that sight didn't set well with Bruce, a frown appearing on his face. Despite his instinctual misgiving, that didn't stop his eyes from noticing the book resting on the desk in front of the supernatural detective. It was open and the pages were discolored from age.

"What exactly did you find?" Bruce couldn't help to ask as he came to a stop, Zana letting go of his arm as she moved to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. At the sound of his voice, Corrigan looked up, staring blankly at the billionaire.

Then, "We found this in that hidden room." At this, Corrigan gestured to the mystery room, the door wide open. Moving his hand back, he then grabbed the sides of the book with both hands, one on each side, and spun it around to face the dark-haired man. "This is the journal of Dr. Thomas Wayne."

That caused Bruce's frown to deepen. His father's journal? In that room? Why? It made sense if it was on one of the shelves in this study, but that hidden room it did not.

Flipping a few pages towards the front, Corrigan then said, "Start here." Setting his briefcase on the floor, Bruce stepped towards the desk and picked up the journal, taking a seat in the last remaining chair in the room.

Immediately he was hit with a feeling of nostalgia. It had to have been years since he had seen his father's handwriting. For a moment, he marveled at the graceful pen strokes and neatness of the writing.

As the seconds dragged on, he soon shook off his admiration and began reading the journal entry, one that was dated...several months, if not the year prior to his birth.

_The oddest thing happened today. Martha and I had a visitor to the manor, a rather charming man. He claimed to have an admiration for architecture and had traveled many miles to come visit Wayne Manor. I'll admit the family house has quite a history behind it, but it was one I was never that interested in. I leave that sort of business to better suited men...read: more interested men. If it wasn't for Alfred, I'm certain no one would remember where the tapestries came from._

_I saw no harm in letting this gent wander about the house. In fact, Alfred gave him the grand tour and what a tour! I couldn't help myself but join in. I swear, that man is an encyclopedia. No wonder that book is named after Britannia. I kid, but I'm not too far off._

_Of course, Martha had to play the ever attentive hostess. She was born for that role, that little woman. Between her and Alfred, they never let me go astray._

_Yet, it was as we sat in the sitting room with this guest that we found he had no home to go to. He was just running around the country, living off the fat of the land. I must admit, that sort of adventure had my attention. I always wished I had traveled more than I have. Perhaps I need to follow this fellow's example one day soon._

_Still, being the excellent hostess she is, Martha invited this gent to stay the night. He protested and insisted—obviously she won that argument. Currently this fellow is making himself at home in that little room next to my study. We had offered one of the million guest rooms we have, but he chose this small, little closet. To each their own, I suppose._

Bruce turned the page. He found a new entry there, dated to the next day.

_I've come to find this mystery gent is named Simon. It's a little odd, but I swear I've met Simon from somewhere before. I don't know why, but it's just something in my gut._

_Today, Simon actually educated Alfred on a few things with this house. As unflappable as that Brit is, he seemed to have lost his tongue when Simon told him about the construction of the house. I rather enjoyed that. Of course, Alfred kept his stiff upper lip, but forfeited the match to attend to the goose he was cooking. That's an apt metaphor if I've ever heard one._

_You should've listened to Simon. The way he talked and described this house, from the woodwork to the floors and walls, it sounded as if he had been there when they built this place. Perhaps he had been a carpenter in a previous life._

The entry stopped there. Eyes darting to the next page, Bruce found it blank. Flipping it, he found the next entry and he felt his stomach drop.

_There's something wrong with Simon._

_I have been a doctor for several years now and I know when a person is sick and when they are not. I can look at Simon and just know he is not well._

_Allow me to explain. It has been two weeks since Martha and I invited Simon to stay at the house. Call it pity, call it whatever you wish. After all of this time, my gut has been warning me and I wished I had listened to it earlier. Though he appears asymptomatic, I believe whatever ails this man is not physical so much as it is psychological. Part of me wishes I could bring Leslie into this, but psychiatric medicine isn't her forte. It's not mine either, but I can make do._

_Regardless, I did offer to give Simon a physical just in case I was wrong about a possible psychological problem. Lord knows this man probably hasn't seen a doctor in several years. Though he looks 30, the way he behaves is that of a sixty year old. While a prostate exam is not fine for everyone involved, I'm willing to bet he's overdue for his._

_Unfortunately, when I spoke to Simon about getting a checkup, he declined and said he was well. I didn't believe him, but it isn't my place to pry. A patient does have the right to refuse medical attention even if it is to their detriment. Regardless, I did leave the offer an open one._

_I rather doubt he'll ever take me up on that offer._

Another page turned.

_I was right. Simon is not well._

_It was pure accident that I discovered it. I had never taken Simon for being a religious person, but I've come to reevaluate that belief very strongly, from this journal page, to my pen, to the second glass of whiskey I'm downing._

_It began like so: I had come to my study to pick out a book. There was a complicated medical case at the hospital and I felt certain one of my old medical textbooks could shed some light onto the matter. For the record, I was right about that, but that's for another entry._

_As I picked out my book, I found the door to Simon's room opened, the light on. Figuring I would just wish him a good night, I opened the door and looked in._

_And right there in the middle of the room was Simon talking in tongues. I know, it sounds crazy, but there was no telling through the garbled mutterings Simon was making to tell what he was talking about. I had always thought the practice was part of the south, but I seemed to be wrong in that assessment._

_Even stranger, he had this idol of a bat. It was about the size of my golfing trophy, the one I beat old man Dithers for in last year's tourney._

Bruce had to pause at that. Dithers? The Cryptkeeper? His father called him an old man? How old was that man anyways? Shaking his head, he returned to reading.

_Anyways, there was Simon on his knees, bowing to this bat statue thing, mumbling all sorts of nonsense. And then he pulled out a knife. Before I could say anything, he slashed his palm and bled all over the floor. Simon didn't seem to care. He just kept doing that strange voodoo._

_It was at this time I quietly excused myself. It has been three hours since I saw that...whatever that was. I've since checked on Simon and he is currently sleeping in his bed. The bat statue is gone and I'm guessing Simon cleaned up the blood because I didn't see any of it on the floor. That floor is made of this old wood too. Alfred would have a conniption if he ever found out._

_I'm pouring myself a third whiskey. While everyone is allowed to worship what they please, there is something inside of me that rebels against this idea even as I write. I don't know what to make of this._

_And yet, some things seem to be falling into place. A ball Martha is hosting is coming up, a masquerade by choice. She has been a buzz with selecting our costumes. Apparently she wishes I go as a bat or vampire, whatever it is she pleases. Simon seemed to like the costume a little too much as well. Regarding his statue, it seems he has an affinity for bats_

_I need to sleep on this._

Looking up from the journal, Bruce gazed at Zatanna and Corrigan. "The bat statue. Is it who I think it is?"

The two magic users glanced to each other before returning their attention to the dark-haired man. "If you're referring to Barbatos, then yes, we believe it is."

So a Barbatos worshiper had stayed in that room. His father was obviously disturbed by this. However, it didn't seem as if he kicked the man out of the house either. In fact, it was as if his father wanted to help this Simon person.

He flipped the page to the next entry.

_I asked Simon to leave today. I know as a doctor, I am beholden to uphold my oath to care for the sick and injured, but today I could no longer tolerate Simon's presence in my own house._

_The night I witnessed his bizarre ritual turned out to be only the tip of the iceberg. I have become more and more convinced Simon is not who he claims to be and is not some poor, deranged soul. The last few days have shown more and more erratic behavior from him that I am becoming to believe is who he is._

_Simon is truly charismatic, that I won't deny. You cannot help but be sucked into his tales. He is friendly, inviting, yet guarded. He is also cunning, methodical, and above all, sadistic._

_One week ago to the day, Alfred took me into his confidence. The housestaff has been complaining of Simon's moods and mistreatment, going so far as to physically assault one of the landscapers, for what reason I do not know nor can it be relayed to me. From that day forward I watched Simon with a closer eye and I feel much regret that I missed such tragic warning signs._

_Unfortunately, Simon did not take my request gracefully. He became confrontational and began speaking as if the manor was his home instead of mine. His response was shocking as much as it was surprising. Had I expected such anger, I would have prepared myself proper. Thank God that Alfred was nearby. He was able to subdue Simon and remove him from the property. Though I knew Alfred had some basic training in his previous career, I was startled by how competent he truly was._

_At last I can breathe easier. Simon is no longer allowed on the premises and Alfred has assumed the role of bodyguard not only for myself, but Martha as well. I cannot allow such a man around Martha, not in her delicate condition now. Even now she covets our bathroom as morning sickness gets the best of her._

_Tomorrow I will have Simon's room locked and forever sealed away. There is no telling what other strange rituals he has done nor what horrors lie in there. It is best they are locked away and never revealed to the rest of the world. I've already contacted the carpenters and Martha will surely want to pick out new wallpaper for the study._

_I make this promise: no one will harm my family and those in my employ so long as I live. All who pass through the halls of Wayne Manor will be as safe as my wife and our unborn child._

Moving to the next page, Bruce found himself flipping through several more, none of which mentioned the Simon character again. It was only these few passages. Looking up to Zana and Corrigan again, he gazed at them curiously.

"This Simon is most likely the person I've been following," Corrigan spoke then. "The ritual to Barbatos indicates as much. I wouldn't find it surprising either if he was the one that opened the room, or told your former associate on where to find it."

"It's a shame your father didn't write a last name either," Zatanna mused. "It would make finding some dirt on this guy easier."

Bruce nodded his agreement. Simon, though not common, was not an uncommon name either. In fact, it could be a last name as well, or even just an alias. Traditional searches would be long and arduous to perform.

"Have either one of you tried a spell?" he suggested instead.

"We've considered such an option," Corrigan admitted, "but we'll need to take extreme caution with it. From what I can sense from that room, this Simon is not a man to trifle with, even with something as simple as a tracking spell. I will gather the necessary supplies and take every precaution I can before performing such a spell."

That seemed reasonable. "So where does that leave us?" the dark-haired man asked.

"Unfortunately, more questions than answers. But at least we have a lead."

It wasn't the best of ways to do this, but there weren't any real options.

* * *

Between the Birds, there was no safe place to meet up. They couldn't go to each other's houses because that would be a giant red flag. Their places of work were even more conspicuous so they were out. The Birdcage, despite their usage of it, was damaged and therefore not a good place to meet.

So that just left telecommunication.

"So far as I can tell, we have a whole bunch of B-rated assassins on the loose," Helena spoke into the phone receiver. "And there's someone behind them using them not only to get at the Bat, but distract us too."

"_That's what I'm getting too,"_ Dinah agreed. _"Though I do think they're starting to target us now. Whomever the mastermind is, he's done playing around and is actively trying to kill us."_

"Then there's this Lincoln March. I hadn't heard of him until that mime guy—I can't believe I'm saying this—that mime guy told us about him."

"_Talia seemed to know about him,"_ Dinah pointed out. _"She didn't have a high opinion of him either."_

"She probably doesn't have a high opinion of a lot of people," the dark-haired woman groused. Also, March's name had ended up in the paper, alongside the entire Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors. Apparently Bruce Wayne had come out of nowhere and had them all fired. Details were sketchy at the moment, but the city's resident playboy apparently had no problems playing rough. It was a little surprising to say the least. Unfortunately, that meant March could be anywhere. Perhaps they should have put some surveillance equipment at his penthouse to monitor him. "By the way, have you heard from her?"

"_No, not one word. I guess she might try to get in touch with us at the Birdcage, but I don't feel all that safe going over there, not with all of those assassin guys around. It only takes one of them to ID me heading over and then I'm the next Robin."_

Helena nodded, even though the blonde woman couldn't see her do so. It wasn't a secret how Robin had been outed and was basically exiled to the other side of the country. It was more for his safety than anything, but it still sucked. The Birds couldn't uproot themselves as easily as the teenage boy could, what with their jobs and lives. "At the very least we can say four of those bastards are out of commission. Scorpiana is still on the loose though, along with those card people from the casino."

There was a pause. _"Do you think we need to call in the Batclan? Get them updated on what's going on with us as well as see what's going on their side of things?"_

That wasn't a bad idea at all. "I can agree to that. Get in touch with Oracle so that way we can keep them in the loop too. She should have found something on that weird dirt we found at March's penthouse. We'll all meet at the Batbunker tonight."

"_I'll let Manhunter and Katana know too. See if Batgirl will join us as well."_

"Will do." Despite her agreement, Helena found herself a little hesitant. Despite her initial efforts, she wasn't sure if Batgirl was on her way to making the Birds of Prey a five-woman team or not. She clearly had an allegiance to Batman and she went running back to him when there was even a slight threat against him.

Still, it might help things to have a Bat with them. She could relay the meeting to Batman, or even invite him over. No way would—or should—they turn down any help. Batman already knew he was targeted; he should know about the assassins that had gone after the Birds as well.

"I'll talk with you later," Helena then said and hung up the phone. Setting it down, she stood up from her couch and walked to her bedroom. Ever since the Birdcage was attacked, she had been keeping her costume and gear here, along with the earpiece she had for Batman. It wouldn't be too hard to hail Batgirl with the same device.

* * *

Talia could sense the disapproval.

Not that she needed to sense it, it was plainly verbalized.

"Why are you leaving me behind!" Damian wailed. "Why did you not take me to that apartment? I wanted to go. I told you I wanted to go!"

Talia...ignored her child. Yes, he was upset, but some suffering was good for growing boys, was it not? She couldn't protect him from disappointment forever.

Regardless, the trip to March's penthouse along with the junkyard was something she needed to do alone. As it turned out, that was a good decision. The surprise attack along with those other vigilantes, the Birds of Prey she was told, would have exposed Damian as a potential weak spot. Then there was the presence of that girl her Beloved had taken in. She could tolerate the girl if she had to, but she represented an obstacle that kept her and the Detective apart. And if she could only tolerate the girl, Damian did not stand a chance at maintaining any semblance of professionalism.

"Listen to me, Mother!" Damian demanded.

Looking up from the papers she was perusing, she looked at the boy. "What is it, Damian?" she asked.

"I want you to promise me," he said quickly. "I want you to promise that you won't leave me behind again. I want to fight."

Was that so? "And why should I make such a promise?"

"Because I am capable," he proudly proclaimed. "I am well-trained. You know this."

"You can handle anything, yes?"

"I can handle everything."

A bemused look appeared on Talia's face. "Could you handle being around the girl? Batgirl I believe she's called."

Damian's scowl hardened. "Usurper," he growled.

An appropriate name. Still, such emoting of aggression was not worthy of an assassin of the Demon's Fang. "And that is why I did not take you with me the last two nights," she spoke succinctly, picking up one of the pages of paper on her desk and lifting it up before her face.

"That's not fair! You know I—"

Talia abruptly lowered the document. "I know that you dislike the girl. While I cannot fault you for this, you must reign in your emotions. This girl is involving herself in this matter with your father, which means you will have to tolerate her presence. Can you do that?"

Damian gritted his teeth. "I can do whatever is asked of me," he growled.

"Then you need to go brush your teeth and prepare yourself for bed."

Damian's mouth dropped open. "What?!" he exclaimed incredulously. He then stomped right up to her desk, slapping his hands down on it as he learned towards her. "I will not—"

Talia reached out with a hand and grabbed the boy's ear, twisting it so that she could see behind it. "Ow!" he screamed.

A disapproving look appeared on her face. "You are not cleaning behind your ears." Laying down the paper she held, she moved her hand to the other side of Damian's face and checked behind that ear too. It too needed a good scrubbing. Pushing his head up, she ordered, "Smile."

"I will not smile, Mother!"

"Smile, Damian, or I will ensure you never leave this building. No more nightly trips."

"You can't be serious!"

"Do I not look serious?"

Damian stared at her before he begrudgingly smiled, showing his teeth. Inspecting them, they passed, but only barely. "Brush your teeth and clean behind your ears. I want you turning in for the night. You have your studies in the morning."

"But what about Father and this March guy and—"

"Nothing will happen this night that will force our hand," Talia told him. "There is still much to uncover before we move. We will wait for tomorrow. By then we will have what we need to deliver a killing blow."

"And what of March?"

"He is tied to this; we know this. His attempt at taking away your inheritance has been thwarted, rest assured. But now he is on the run and if he is smart, he will not return to his residence. It is too obvious—not to mention stupid. He will return to whatever lair he is using to lick his wounds and make another attempt on your father. It is then that we will ensure his demise."

Talia then smiled. "Now go to bed. You need your rest."

Damian sulked, but did as he was told. Turning away and walking out of the room. The smile left Talia's face the moment the door closed. Her Order needed to be prepared to stop her child from leaving the premises. He had escaped her once before, fortunately running headlong into her Beloved's arms. No doubt he would do the same, but with the stakes rising in this little vendetta, she could not afford for him to expose himself, to March and his associates.

Besides, it was too early for March's next move. As indicative as his plan to take over Wayne Enterprises, this man was methodical and took his time. Inferring from that, he was used to his plans working more times than not. Anything less was unacceptable.

Talia would allow him to lick his wounds for now. He couldn't hide from her forever. No one ever did.

* * *

Hurt was definitely enjoying that costume too much. That cape was fluttering about him, the bad doctor sometimes intentionally throwing an arm out as he moved to increasing the weaving movements of the dark-colored fabric. It was a flair for the dramatic, something that was probably hereditary.

"I hope you have a good explanation for what happened today," Hurt began, standing before the slumping Hush, Ace not even paying either of them any mind. "Losing control of Wayne Enterprises was not part of the plan."

Oh, he knew and was just as angry about it.

"It was only a matter of time until he retaliated. Our element of surprise could only last for so long until he began to regain his footing and begin a counterattack. We should have been prepared for this, should have planned for this."

Hurt leaned in, his facial features grim. "Is that the best you can offer me?"

Hush tilted his head back, struggling to keep his temper in check as he regarded the other man. "You're the mastermind of this party. You're the one who claims to know him better than anyone else. Why weren't _you_ prepared?"

That was not the right answer, even though it felt so satisfying to say. Any satisfaction he may have felt vanished as the sensation of being torn away from his body enveloped him. It lasted only for a moment, but he was breathing hard as soon as it was over.

"Do not talk back to me," Hurt stated. It was a wonder that this man didn't snarl or sound angry. The coldness in his voice more than made up for it, though.

Sucking in as much air as he could through parted teeth, the bandage-wearing man said, "We can still turn this around. The grand finale is still within reach; we only need to press a few more of your buttons and get him back to being desperate again."

Hurt leaned in closer, not convinced by the argument. "There is a purpose to every action we take and every step we make. One misstep poses to undo everything. He was not to have taken back Wayne Enterprises. The desperation of being cut off financially, his assets tied up in stocks and bonds, was to distract and slow him down, making him more susceptible to every cue and stimulus to follow."

"Then we didn't do enough to put the odds in our favor, did we?" Hush growled back. Despite the sensation of losing his body, the former surgeon still had the guts to say, "What is it that you like to say? Ah, right. Advantage: good."

A loud, strangled gasp escaped from the bandaged man's throat, and he slipped down out of his seat and onto the floor. Everything was so cold, distant, and he felt as if he was losing himself. Oblivion was eating away at his very essence, seeking to reclaim him from his second lease on life.

"Do not get smart with me, Elliot." Hurt's voice brought him back from the brink. "Now, explain how you're going to reclaim our momentum. Do so before I truly cut loose your mortal coil."

Gasping loudly, Hush fought to regain control of himself, slowing calming down from the panic he had felt at the existential level. Once he had regrouped enough, he began to speak once more. "Despite...all appearances...Batman was not...the mastermind behind...this coup. He's...been too busy. And the means to pull this stunt, the groundwork would have needed to be laid out months, if not years in advance. If nothing else, the Wayne Enterprises front was vulnerable through all of that. He was too busy trying to reclaim Gotham from Bane and all the others. He was gone for the period of time where to begin fighting back, he would have had to have still been here, in the city. We both know he wasn't."

Hurt glared down at him, but he was listening all the same. "Go on," the standing man granted permission.

"Now, more than ever, he has grown a need for allies, both in the streets, and in the boardroom. The only other person in a position to have countered the takeover was Lucius Fox. Fox is the one to turn things around." Only in hindsight could Hush have noticed what the company president had been up to. All of it had been disguised as business meetings, hell, the meetings were more than likely genuine with Fox getting more out of his counterparts than what was presented.

That many of the shareholders happened to have had relations with Bruce Wayne had _not_ escaped him.

"So, should we begin targeting Fox? The other vigilantes?" Hurt mused, finally taking his eyes off the sprawled out surgeon to begin plotting. However, Hush had a different idea.

"Fox will be watched, guarded. He won't take any chances with him. As for the vigilantes, he could care less about them. It would be better to dispatch them anyway, truly isolate him further. However, there is one whom will hurt him, perhaps more than all the others."

"Hmm? Go on." The masked, nondescript man was intrigued. Good.

"We've ignored this aspect of his operation thus far. He'll be too distracted trying to anticipate other attacks against _him_ that this next attack will blindside him. While I prefer Aristotle, this maxim from Aesop is much more appropriate. 'Beware the man who can strike from a distance.'

"In this case, what I'll be doing is finishing unfinished business. However, I'll need some big guns to help. Since the kiddos are scratching at the walls, I'll take them with me. Give them some exercise."

"Yes, take the Royal Flush Gang with you if you so wish. Just produce results," Hurt granted as he turned on his heel to leave.

"Including Ace."

"I beg your pardon?" Hurt whipped his head about to eye him over his shoulder.

"There needs to be a new element added, else this next strike will be over before it completes its purpose." Hush shrugged his shoulders as he looked up from his place on the floor, still not getting back up.

"And risk her interfering—"

"Ace won't be used on him. She's for everyone else," Hush interrupted, giving a meaningful look.

For a moment, there was silence between the two men. Eventually, Hurt nodded. "Make sure it stays that way."

The clacking of his dress shoes were the only sound he made as he vanished into the darkness of the hallway. In response, Hush gave a sigh as he finally relaxed, taking the time to push himself off the floor and back into his chair. Glancing over at Ace, he could see the slip of a girl watching him with that blank look of hers that was almost trademark.

"Be ready," he advised. "Tonight will be your turn to shine. Make me proud."

Predictably, Ace said nothing but with her, silence tended to speak a million words.

Almost literally.


	22. Set Up the Next Game

Set Up the Next Game

Today had been a long day. While Barbara was doing her best to get all they needed to fix up the yacht, that meant a bunch of bored teenagers crammed on it with nothing to do. Normally that would be a recipe for disaster but when you had someone like Raven on board, that went a long way into reducing the headache.

That still didn't mean that Tim wasn't stressed out beyond belief. Every half hour or so, he found himself looking out of a window or standing on deck, looking into the city and seeing if he could spot an incoming Batman who would be showing up to make good on his words. So far nothing, but this was Batman.

He wouldn't see the man until it was too late.

It was getting to the middle of the afternoon when he got the call. Well, actually, since he hadn't been wearing his earpiece at the moment, a spur of the moment thing, it had been Kori who picked up. When the Tamaranian had given him the device, the teen found his old partner on the line, sounding a bit more...happier.

Naturally, when business comes up, you put aside such mushy feelings. Dick was nothing but professional. "_Are you still in Gotham? The Network is getting together about recent events and to compare notes. Unless you've done the smart thing and gotten the hell out here._"

"You know what's going on. You sure as hell know we're still in town. So the Birds got in touch? Sounds like they've been having problems too." Leaning against the railing the lined the deck, his back to the ocean, Tim folded his arms over his chest, giving the appearance of taking a call to anybody who might happen to walk by.

"_Trying to keep the Network together's been tough and we have a naturally tendency to stick to our groups. Yeah, someone's been targeting them too; it's why we think there's something bigger going on. We're going to compare notes, see if we can't come up with some new leads and start taking this thing down. Since you were there at the casino, and that last fight with Kraken, maybe you might know something that could mean something._"

Two places where the Royal Flush Gang happened to be, one involving Batman and a bandage-faced man and the second with a deep sea diving hulk attacking the Batclan. The discrepancy was so enormous that the two had to be connected somehow. _Damn it, Drake, you're getting too curious and putting yourself in too deep. You have one job and that's to get out of here._

But he never could resist a good mystery. The DVD collection at home held more thrillers in it than it did any other genre. Plus, there was the need to be helpful and productive, both of which he wasn't while standing on deck.

"Unless the parts show up and we get the boat fixed up, I guess I could show up, let you guys know what I know," he answered, already wanting to smack himself in the face. First Victor and Garfield, then Kori, now him. If he was caught, that would be it then. "I'm going to call Oracle first, get an update. This will be risky, especially after last night. You know who seems to have eyes everywhere and if he finds out…"

"_I'll take the blame. Hell, I bet the rest will be willing to stick up for you if you need it,_" Dick cut in. "_We're in the middle of something we don't understand and I'm not about to let Batman, intentionally or not, do anything that could blind us. I would rather have your intake whatever it is than not. Maybe it's a break, maybe it's not, but at least it can help us rule something out._"

Thanks for being pragmatic there, Dick. For some reason, it made the younger teen feel more confident in his decision, though not by much.

"So when do you need me there?" he asked, looking up to the sky and trying to check the position of the sun. Hard to tell if it was middle of the day or middle of the afternoon. Maybe that was something to teach himself on the way back, you know, telling the time of day by the position of the sun.

"_Thinking about an early start. Close to nine. We're meeting at the bunker, so don't be late._"

"Unlike some people, I'm never late." Yeah, needed to insert some of the old banter into this.

"_Except on the uptake._"

"Screw you." Now the dark-haired teen was scowling before letting a fond smile curl his lips. It had been too long since he could really talk like this with anybody.

Though the call ended, and he pocketed the ear piece, Tim found upon looking up that he still had an audience. Kori had stayed close by, waiting patiently.

"You will be venturing out into the city come nightfall, are you not?" the Tamaranian asked.

"It'll be business, unless we get the stuff we need to fix the engine up first," he explained. "I can give them a call if that happens first."

"Will you be needing a companion, someone to see your back?" Okay, what was with the questions? Tim had never pegged Kori to be the subtle type...did this have anything to do with last night and her dragging her feet back to the yacht?

"I would prefer it if everybody stays here. This isn't going to be a field trip through Gotham," he stated, holding up a hand as if to stop what he predicted could be another train wreck in the making.

"What's this about going into Gotham?" And there was Cassie, speaking loudly. Too loudly.

And here was the headache in the making.

* * *

It was late in the day, rush hour traffic would be picking up any minute, and Sarah was planning a small diversion before turning in for the night. The lieutenant was finishing off some last bits of paperwork, other cases that needed to be finished for the day, or ended in a place where they could be picked right back up tomorrow.

The sooner she could do this, the sooner she could go on to her little excursion, then get back home in time to maybe whip up a homemade meal because damn it, it had been way too long since the last time she had good food. Plus, Jim would appreciate it. The commissioner would have to stay behind a little tonight, but if all went well, everything would be timed up perfectly.

That had been the intention until Bullock noticed her rapid pace. Despite all appearances and impressions, as bad as they were, Bullock was very sharp and observant.

"You seem to be in a rush tonight, Lieutenant. Big plans?" He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Well, she hadn't been thinking about that kind of stuff, but maybe if the cards were played right…

"You could say that. Follow up on a couple of my cases," she answered.

"Figures. You Gordons are all about business. Ever care to have some down time like normal people?" the other lieutenant scoffed. Sarah had long come to understand that was just Bullock's way of showing he cared. Sometimes, though, that rough around the edges persona of his was too much.

Fortunately, Sarah had a good reply. "If I had a litter of kittens I had to feed, would you have the same complaint?"

"First of all, cats are better than people. They know where we really stand," the heavy set man defended. "Also, don't bring my cats into this."

"Harv, at least do something about the smell. And the cat hairs. I think Lorenzo is allergic," Montoya chimed in.

"Lorenzo can suck it, and you can tell him I said that," Bullock huffed.

Sarah had to shake her head. The banter between these two had been something the department had been sorely missing during the whole Bane incident. To think that there had ever been a day where she had missed it.

"I could care less about the smell, but do use a lint roller for the cat hairs. You shed them every time you take a step." She couldn't resist a quip at his expense, especially after the bit about downtime.

While Bullock tried to defend himself once more, Montoya had moved about until the younger detective stood by the lieutenant's desk, taking a glance down at two files that had been placed to a side and away from the rest. "You still need to finish these up? Didn't you close one a few days ago?"

Tearing her attention away from Bullock, Sarah glanced up at the Hispanic woman, following the younger woman's gaze down to the files. "Oh, those. Actually, those are ones I need to do follow-up on. It shouldn't take long but I need to leave the office soon if I want finish before it gets too late."

"Something special about them?" Bullock asked.

"Wasn't this one a suicide?" Montoya spoke up first, a hand placed on the file on top and moving it another to see the tab on the bottom file. "That kid, the urban explorer? I've been hearing some noise about it, but not enough to get a good grasp about it."

"The hell's an urban explorer?" Bullock wondered, his forehead furrowing.

"Only something relevant to both of those. That, and a location. I want to check it out before I head home," Sarah answered, reaching over to collect both cases.

"What's the location?" Montoya asked, her curiosity not willing to let her accept anything less than a specific answer that was not vague in any way, shape, or form.

Not seeing the harm in answering, Sarah did just that. "Stonegate."

It took both the Gotham natives a moment to puzzle over that. It would be Bullock who spoke up first. "The prison? That abandoned place? What's so special about it?"

"That's what urban explorers do; they go to locations, typically abandoned buildings, and explore them. Some have tried to make livings doing so using the internet as a means to pay living expenses," the female lieutenant explained. "Sometimes there's a supernatural aspect involved, such as exploring a haunted house or something similar. They film the exploration then post online."

"And doing that gets them money? How?" Someone was hung up on the wrong detail.

"Isn't Stonegate an abandoned prison? And alleged to be haunted?" Huh, Montoya had this far away tone to her voice.

"Oh...I'm missing something, but something else is starting to make sense," Bullock commented.

"Regardless, I wanted to do a cursory look before I end the day," Sarah continued, not wanting this to go off the rails and waste time. Rush hour traffic was going to be a bitch if she waited too long.

"But isn't Stonegate on the other side of Gotham? Across the river? Almost outside the city limits?" Montoya pressed.

"It's all of those things so I need leave soon," Sarah answered, trying to put up other, unrelated cases and files.

"Hold your horses, Lieutenant." Bullock held up a beefy hand in a gesture commonly interpreted as stop or slow down. "I don't like the sound of this. You going to a place nearly outside the city just as it's starting to get dark. If this ain't the set up for a slasher movie, I have no idea what is."

"I have to agree with Harv. Even if it is abandoned, it doesn't mean there aren't people nearby. It would be best to have someone with you, to watch your back," the Hispanic detective threw in. "Tell you what, stick around while I finish up, and I'll join you."

"Renee, I'm a cop, like you, and I carry. I will be fine," Sarah stated, frowning up at the younger woman.

"I don't know. It might be better to have another pair of eyes. You know, in case you miss something." And there was Bullock, throwing in his two unwanted cents.

"I appreciate your concern, but I do think I can take care of myself," Sarah began to say. This was taking too much time as it was.

"I think for our peace of mind, you should take someone with you," Montoya pressed the attack, moving closer to the female lieutenant so as to prevent Sarah from getting up.

"If you're worried about the Com'mish, he's gonna be busy tonight," Bullock added casually. "Doing one of those telecall things with the mayor. That way he can be yelled at from the comfort of his office and not having to drive halfway across town to be yelled at. Though, since the crime rate's been going down, that crap at the casino not counting, he's probably going to be congratulated or something. Gonna be a long while, I reckon. Heck, _I_ might be finished for the day before he gets out. Maybe I'll join yous lovely ladies."

Montoya rolled her eyes. "Flattery isn't your strong point, Harv. Plus you're getting way too close to sexual harassment territory." Then to Sarah, "But he does make a good point. I figure that you'd want to be getting home, but it'll be awhile before your husband shows up. At least let me finish up and I'll join you. This is definitely not a time to let our guards down."

"Especially now. Give it enough time and we're gonna get a new weirdo stirring crap up," Bullock agreed.

Her head turning from side to side, watching Montoya then Bullock then back to Montoya, Sarah could only feel helpless as her plans were being scrapped. Superstitions aside, it would be smarter to have someone watching her back, especially if there was something or someone lurking about that abandoned prison.

Maybe she would bring Bullock along too. His girth might slow down anything that might chase them.

* * *

In a city full of people, Batgirl felt alone.

It wasn't a new feeling. She had always felt that way. People came into her life and left, an ever changing deck of cards. Some had stayed longer than others and she had grown fond of them. And yet, here she was, staring out into this gloomy city, and she was all alone.

This was by choice, however. She had made that decision many months ago and it was something she did not want to reverse. Yet, she found herself running right back to her...her father the moment he was in danger. Why? Why was that?

She had tried to be independent. When it came to stopping muggers and rapists, that worked splendidly. There wasn't a criminal that she could not best. But then she found that one crime scene. She had been too late to stop the crime, but she had no idea how to proceed. That had always been Batman's area, along with Huntress. Then she found another and another. So many crimes she was too late to stop, yet justice was needed.

She was grateful when Huntress brought her to the Birds of Prey. They had opened her eyes to so many new things. She discovered a new way of thinking, of seeing crime scenes in their brief time together.

And yet, she could tell she did not have much standing in what was a growing vigilante community. Yes, she was paid respect for her skills. All of the Birds had done that. Yet, when she had gone to that wheelchair lady, her hesitance told her that the respect was more for the symbol she wore rather than herself. She had the feeling that if Batman had made that visit, Oracle would not have hesitated as much as she had.

It was appearing harder to step out of that man's shadow than she had previously thought.

Perhaps that was what was grating her nerves. Were people paying her respect for her, or because of the man that stood behind her? Faintly, she felt it was a bit of both, but it was undeniable the influence her father had on the others. He entered a room and the others quieted down. Regardless of their personal opinion, they still held him in high esteem. And he had earned that.

What had she earned?

Batgirl could still hear the words she had said to Batman, about how she wanted to be on her own, making a name for herself. That was still something she wanted to do, she had not lost that determination.

But how did she do that? The current status of the vigilante community favored group work over independents. Already she was being pulled in two directions, one to the Birds of Prey, and the other back to Batman.

At the very least, Batman was a man of his word and wasn't actively urging her back. In fact, he was encouraging her to be on her own. That was nice. And still, Batgirl could not help but notice how Huntress and her friends were involving her more and more in their operation. The camaraderie was nice too, especially with women who were experienced in this field.

Did she want to be a part of their group going forward though? She didn't mind them calling for her assistance, but there was a part of her that didn't see herself ready to be part of an ensemble. While all of them were highly-skilled, none held a candle to Batman in her eyes. Maybe that was bias, maybe it was truth. She wasn't sure.

On the other hand, she did want the option to be able to go to her father's side if he needed her. Being part of a group dynamic might stop what came natural to her in that regard and she didn't want to lose that. And yet, her father was not a man to call for help unless he had no other choice—which was a primary reason for her striking out on her own.

God, her head hurt.

A sharp beeping went off in her ear, which did nothing for the headache she felt. _"Batgirl, it's Huntress,"_ she heard.

Discipline demanded she answer immediately. "This is Batgirl," she responded as she pressed a finger to the side of her mask.

"_There's a meeting of the Network at the Batbunker tonight. The Birds and the Batclan will be there to discuss all the crazy things that have been happening lately. We'd like for you to be there too."_

An invitation to the Network? Batgirl wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Okay," she responded before turning the link off. While it was nice to be invited, she wasn't certain that it was her presence that was being requested. Was this another chance for the Birds of Prey to integrate her onto their team? Or was this so that the Network had a line to Batman, which they could use if they felt his attention was needed?

Batgirl wasn't sure if she would go. Part of her wanted to, but she got the feeling she wouldn't be treated on her own merits. No, if she was just going to be an extension of someone else, then she would not go.

And yet, what if this was an opportunity to learn more about whatever threat was out there? There was most certainly one, what with the attack of those robotic scorpions and Hush with his army of maniacs or fiends or whatever they were. What if there was a clue she was missing that she could get just by going to this meeting.

Feeling a breeze blow against her, the girl shudder in spite of the insulation of her suit. Did she go, or did she not go?

Decisions, decisions…

* * *

The Birds had shown up first and in full force. Nightwing had led in the girls with him when he arrived and he noticed how tense the ladies were. They looked like they had been through a lot lately. So had the Batclan, but once Red Robin showed up, the Network would be formed once more to see what they could do about these weird events.

A part of him hoped that his former partner wouldn't show up alone. That unearthly woman, Starfire, was someone that he found he wanted to see again. Their conversation from the previous night still ran through his mind. Who knows, he might be able to poach her off Tim.

"We all here?" Huntress asked, standing but not yet sitting. Her arms were folded in front of her, her sharp eyes cutting into the young male.

"Not quite. Red Robin's running a little behind, but he'll be here," he replied.

"Didn't he leave?" That was Black Canary speaking up, the blonde woman sitting up in her seat and frowning.

"From what I know, there were some business he needed to take care of before he left. Before he could leave, his boat got attacked. He's stranded until he can get it fixed," Nightwing explained as he slid out a chair, plopping down in it.

"Is this attack in anyway connected?" Manhunter was chiming in.

"The attacker was one he identified as having also attacked Batman." That explanation should be more than enough. Judging by the Bird's stoic reactions, Nightwing was right about that. The only sounds that followed were the pulling of chairs as Bluebird and Spoiler sought out their own seats. While missing a certain Emerald Archer, the Batbunker was looking to have a full party for tonight.

As it would turn out, the party might be fuller than he had anticipated.

When Red Robin finally arrived, suited up and looking very uncomfortable, it had at first made Nightwing a bit concerned. The poor kid had every right to be paranoid, but was it taking its toll on him?

"Whoa. This place is awesome! How does it all fit?"

Oh, Red Robin had brought company with him. A lot of company. Five others by the older vigilante's count and they were the same ones he had seen only the night before. He was able to identify Starfire automatically, the orange-skinned woman looking pleasant and calm even as wide eyes took in everything around her. Beside her was a very subdued Wonder Girl—that was what Batman had called her, right?—with a similar look of trepidation that Red Robin had.

Before he could take in the rest, Black Canary surprisingly said, "You brought them here?"

Huntress quickly sent a look to her partner-in-...vigilance, quickly putting the pieces together. "This was the crew we sent to that prison?"

"Indeed, we are the crew you sent to that prison," Starfire spoke up before anyone could, and the joviality of her voice was in stark contrast to subject matter. "It was a very eventful destination and I will not forget for some time. It is offset by the time I spent with my friends and your colleague. Allow me to extend the bark-encrusted limb of peace and gratitude of meeting you."

Nightwing found himself blinking, unable to really say anything to all that. He wasn't alone as quite a few vigilantes had the same stumped looks on their faces. Well, at least she had a way with words.

"She's happy to be here," the...cyborg said, giving a brief translation as well as break the spell of stupor that had fallen.

"We should get down to business," Red Robin added as he broke away from his posse, heading towards one of the seats.

"Agreed," Manhunter said as she reached out and pulled on a chair. As she was moving around to sit in it, she wasn't giving a chance as she found herself suddenly being tackled by a green-colored cheetah. The staff-wielding vigilante gave out a cry of surprise, which brought all attention towards her and her feline attacker.

Already, Nightwing was incredulous because what had brought that on. As he was about to stand, and join in on shouting, a very long, very sharp spike tore out of Manhunter's chair, light gleaming off the lethal metal.

Before anyone could process it, there was a loud slam, which turned all heads towards the door, the very entrance that all of them had passed though. The door itself was shut and all could hear locking mechanism falling into place.

"The hell is going on…?" Black Canary muttered softly, though her voice carried in the ensuing silence.

The cheetah morphed back into a green-skinned human—Beast Boy, Nightwing was able to connect the name to the person. With a sheepish look, the green teen said, "Sorry, I heard something coming from the chair and I didn't think it was normal so I just...I just acted…"

"No problem," Manhunter answered breathlessly, eyes trained on the spike that took the place where she herself would have seconds ago.

"Alright, I don't think this is normal," Wonder Girl said, marching to the door. No sooner had she put her hands on the metal surface that she was thrown back by a surge of electricity. "What the!"

"That is definitely not normal," Huntress agreed, on her feet and on high alert. Also, she about everyone else sitting were now standing up, no longer trusting the chairs.

"_Good evening, vigilantes._"

Okay, that was a new voice, and even though it was a wasted effort looking around for the source, Nightwing had already identified the practically trademark distortion that came when sound came from a speaker.

"Who are you?" he demanded, stopping his quick search of the bunker to try and see where this new development would go.

"_You are all participants in a game, a wager where victory means life and failure means death. I would be careful where you step, where you stand, and where you sit down. For the time being, this bunker of yours has been booby-trapped, courtesy of El Sombrero._"

Being told that the Batbunker had been booby-trapped was very alarming. Already, Nightwing would feel his paranoia rocketing up a level. Eyes darting from side to side, he first located where Spoiler and Bluebird were, then to everything else. The scary part was that everything looked how it normally did with no signs of tampering.

He heard someone comment, "El Sombrero? Really? That's…" Whoever it was was muttering the rest, but due to how youthful they sounded, the older vigilante figured that it was one of Red Robin's crew.

"_While his name is funny, his craft is anything but,_" the unknown voice continued. "_Deathtraps are his forte, but if you doubt his skills, do put them to the test. In fact, I encourage it. It will be make for the most amusing entertainment, something to whet the appetite before the Danse Macabre can begin. Your relevance in recent events is both unneeded and unwanted, and instead of neglecting your presence, we will be taking the means to end it._

"_You are all now in the grip of the Black Glove. Are you willing to place your bet? Do so carefully, because your next move may be your last. Advantage: evil_."


	23. Life and Death Stakes

Life and Death Stakes

Renee Montoya had a lot of respect for her superiors. It wasn't that they were her superior officers and she was only following what was due to those of higher rank. Each person had earned their distinction in her eyes.

Take, for example, Lieutenant Gordon. Long before she had married the Commissioner, she had been a highly-regarded officer. She was sharp, having a nose for detective work. More times than not, she was usually right about a case. Renee had learned to listen to her hunches during her time with the GCPD.

Then there was Bullock. Fat, slobbish, inappropriate Bullock. Just looking at him made you question police integrity. However, despite his appearance, he was a good cop. He had a strong sense of justice and you always wanted him around when you were in a fight. While his training methods on new recruits could use some work—make that a lot of work, she would know—his heart was in a good place and once you looked past his off-putting behavior, he was a good guy too.

So when Lt. Gordon had mentioned an irregularity in a couple of her cases, Renee knew she was likely onto something. Unfortunately, the redhead didn't seem to have much concern for her welfare. True, she was armed, but going to a place like Stonegate? On her own? That just screamed bad idea.

If there was indeed something at the abandoned prison, it had killed at least two people thus far. That was not something to trifle with. Which was why she had pushed her way onto the L.T. That way they both stayed out of trouble; Gordon not getting in over her head without backup and Renee for doing nothing and having her boss—read: Commissioner Gordon—come down on her head for letting his wife go off on her own.

That said, Renee was certain that if she told the Commissioner that his wife had insisted to go alone, he would've been a little sympathetic, even tone his reprimand down a bit. Regardless, that concern was secondary to the primary one, that of a fellow officer going to a possibly dangerous location without backup.

To make sure that Lt. Gordon didn't slip by her, Renee positioned herself at the doors to the bullpen. The redhead was still in the room and this was the only way out without using the emergency staircase. Yes, there was also the stairs that led to the roof, but the door to that stairwell was within looking distance of this door.

Thankfully, Gordon didn't bother trying to pull a fast one on her. With a coat hanging from her arm, the woman approached Renee. "You ready to go?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Renee replied as she turned to the doors.

Before she could open then though, the double doors were thrown open and an officer came barreling into the bullpen. "Monsters!" he cried as he kept running, causing the entire room to slow to a stop. "There's monsters in the building!"

Staring bewilderingly, Renee peered around the open doors and found the hallway that led to the elevators. She didn't see anyone there, which prompted her to look to Gordon in confusion.

However, that's when she noticed something different. Out of the corner of her eye, in the bullpen itself, she saw a couple officers change. It was something right out of a horror movie. Their bodies changed, bulging and lengthening, their face twisting into pain as snouts grew out, revealing sharp teeth. The officers let out roars as their gangly bodies grabbed onto desks and flipped them over.

"Dios mio!" Renee cried out as she whipped her gun out. Gordon had seen the same thing as she had and pulled out her own firearm, pointing it at the...well, the monsters.

However, those two officers weren't the only ones transforming. All of the men and women on that side of the room began to change. Green skin, orange skin, brown fur, it all burst from underneath police uniforms, the clothes ripping apart. "What the hell is going on?!" Renee heard someone exclaim.

And then one of the monsters sucked in a deep breath, and then blasted out fire from its mouth.

Right then and there, guns began to fire.

* * *

Even when told you were in the middle of a trap, your life in the balance, there was always going to be someone who was hotheaded enough to put it to the test.

"Don't worry folks, I'll get us out of here," growled the cyborg teen—Cyborg, obviously, as his left arm transformed into a small cannon. For many of the Gotham residents, this was quite a sight. As the end began to glow, Cyborg turned to face the door that was their only exit and took aim.

Only as he got his arm into position did a thin, red line appear, connecting with the arm. A pulse was felt and Cyborg began to scream as his metal body collapsed onto the floor, bringing an end to his adolescent rebellion.

"Cyborg?!" Beast Boy exclaimed, standing up and looking ready to throw himself halfway across the room, his body tense.

"Don't!" Huntress roared, an arm jerking but staying close to her side in the case she might trigger another trap. Behind the changeling, Manhunrter wrapped her arms around the boy in an attempt to keep him still. How effective that would be remained to be seen, but so far the green male hadn't shifted yet.

"Cyborg! Are you all right?" Red Robin demanded, half his body twisted to look at his teammate but not rushing over.

It took a moment, a long one for all, but eventually, the dark-skinned, titanium clad teen answered. "I think I got hit by some kind of EMP. Most of my systems are down."

"Life support?" the masked teen urged.

"Still up. Back up system kicked in. What the hell?"

Okay, so the kid was still alive, just out of commission.

"Anybody else want to try anything stupid?" Huntress demanded. "Let's think this through. This isn't an idle threat. We need to pretend every inch of space it rigged. Now, let's think. Does anybody know anything that could find or disable these traps?"

"Beast Boy has sensitive hearing," Starfire offered automatically. That explained the save earlier, but was the kid in good enough shape to use it considering his concern for his fallen pal?

"If I knew where the traps were, I think I could deactivate them," Bluebird said, her tone colored in frustration.

"And the one guy who could do the kind of scan we need just took himself out," Black Canary stated, throwing a look that was both accusing and concerned at the metal teen lying on the floor.

"Sorry," Cyborg grunted.

"Let's keep cool. Anybody else think of anything?" Nightwing cut in. Now was not the time to begin finger pointing. Finger pointing was only going to make things worse, and possibly kill someone.

It was a fantastic time for people to fall silent. Yeah, really needed somebody to say something, like they had an idea. Every second was felt as it passed by and no one said anything-

"I can try and teleport myself, and maybe a few others," Raven offered, keeping her body concealed by her cloak as her blank eyes peered from beneath her hood.

"Like you did on that yacht?" Black Canary asked, perking up. Adding, "You can take others with you?"

"It takes a lot of concentration and energy to do more than one person, but it is doable, providing that multiple attempts are acceptable and none of the traps are triggered by such a spell," Raven explained.

Okay, that sounded good enough. "We could do a test run. If nothing else, we'll have someone on the outside who can seek out help, Oracle preferably. They'll be able to hack the doors then we'll only be left with the traps," Nightwing suggested his plan, looking around at the others for any acceptance or descent.

"It's better than anything we have right now. Be careful in case we had company follow us here," Huntress seconded the plan. This vigilante would debate ethics of allowing a teenager to have responsibility of their lives later, when they were all still alive to debate it.

Raven nodded as she closed her eyes, focusing before casting the spell. "Azer—ahh!"

No sooner had she begun when large, red-glowing symbols lit up on all the walls, casting the lighting with a red tinge. Like Cyborg before her, the cloak-wearing girl fell but kept herself on her knees.

"_While there was no guarantee that you would have a practitioner of the mystical arts with you, it was decided not to take the chance_." And there was that so helpful voice, the one belonging to the man who had trapped them here. "_Did you really think it would be that simple?_"

That mocking tone was really grating…

There was a loud whooshing sound. While that voice had been lording over them, someone, a particular orange-skinned female, had been attempting to make her way to her second fallen teammate when a very long, very sharp harpoon-like weapon tore through a wall, rocketing right past her, and impaled the opposing wall. Orange-red hair was pulled along with the spear, fluttering back into place and ignored as a pair of wide, green eyes stared into the space in front of her that had once been lethal.

A single, booted foot rested on the pressure plate that had triggered the trap, Starfire pulling her limb back and away from it.

"No more moving!" Huntress barked, her voice loud enough to make several people wince.

Yet it was the best piece of advice they had as death surrounding every single one of them, waiting to be triggered.

* * *

Bullock had heard the scream. "Monsters! There's monsters in the building!"

Looking up from his desk, he saw the man running past Sarah and Montoya, both ladies looking perplexed.

Then he blinked his eyes and realized their frightened officer wasn't completely off his rocker.

Now, Bullock didn't mince words. He didn't really care to. Only arrogant jackasses and their brownnosing pets corrected every grammar mistake imaginable. He could see where his fellow officer would cry out monsters considering the other side of the room was suddenly filled with them.

But to Bullock, they weren't monsters. They were aliens.

Take that one with the purple tentacles swarming out of its head and the pincers for hands. The overweight cop didn't know where it came from or how it got there, but it sure as hell didn't look friendly. Dropping behind his desk, he pulled out his firearm, quickly checking the chamber to make sure it was loaded. Popping up from behind his cover, he fired a couple shots, hitting the tentacle alien right in its chest, or whatever it called a chest. Whatever, his shots hit home and the alien immediately dropped to the floor, its tentacles whipping around frantically.

That's when a mean-looking red alien popped out of nowhere. Its snarling face was barking some strange words, undoubtedly its native tongue. _Learn to speak English, ya bastard!_ Before Bullock could yell such an amazing quip, the red alien raised up some bizarre-looking gun and fired a laser at him.

Eyes widening, Bullock ducked behind his desk, hearing the laser beam hit his cover. "Oh, yer shooting lasers at me now," he barked. He then jerked back up and fired his gun. "Eat lead, jerk!"

Unlike the purple tentacle alien, this time his shot struck the red one in the shoulder. He could see it's left side jerk backwards as it roared out in pain. Firing again, the bullet hit the right side, right where a kidney should be if this thing was remotely like a human. Regardless, the alien dropped to the floor like its friend.

_Ha! Two down! Who's next?_

Suddenly, pieces of his desk drawer shattered, the shards pelting Bullock against his face and arm. Wincing, the lieutenant, spun around and found...no freaking way! That was the goddamn Terminator! He knew a shiny, silver robot when he saw one and that thing had its red eyes staring right at him, holding up a pistol.

Since when did that thing get here?! Jerking to a side, Bullock bolted for another desk, using it for better cover since the Terminator had too good of a shot at him. Strange that its aim was just a little off. Didn't robots have guidance systems or some shit to make sure they didn't miss? Looked like Skynet was cutting corners.

Taking a deep breath, Bullock steadied his nerves before he jerked out to one side of the desk, keeping low. Taking quick aim, he fired a shot, one that struck the robot against its knee. A weird, robotic cry came out of the machine's mouth before it dropped to the floor, grabbing at its ruined joint.

That caused Bullock to frown. Since when did Terminators cry out in pain? He was just trying to disable the thing real quick. Lord knows a handgun wasn't going to stop it. He needed a little time to get to the SWAT department so that he could get a shotgun; you know, something with a little more firepower.

But now that he was thinking, he couldn't help but wonder where the Terminator and those aliens came from. It was as if they popped out of nowhere. One minute he was starting to make a tiny dent in the paperwork he had to do, the next they were everywhere. He hadn't seen a real human being since Sarah and Montoya…

Crap, the girls! Swinging his head round, he looked towards the bullpen doors, the last place he had seen them. Fortunately—or unfortunately—he didn't see them there. He didn't see their bodies lying on the floor either, so he was hoping that took cover and were shooting back at these things. The fact he couldn't see them hopefully meant they were out of harm's way for the moment. Jesus, this was just like the time Bane attacked the precinct.

And what was with this shit happening all over again?!

"Alright you sons of bitches," Bullock grumbled under his breath, checking his magazine to make sure he had a few bullets left. He did, in case you were wondering. Slamming the clip back in, he readied himself to go for a run. He needed to get to SWAT and get his hands on their much better toys. "You just wait right here while I go get me some better toys. Then you're gonna wish you ain't never been born."

And he'd find where Sarah and Montoya were. Lord knows they'd be looking for him and he needed to show them just how much ass he could kick. Chicks dug tough guys after all.

Yelling, Bullock shot up from his cover and took off running, pointing his gun towards the other side of the room and unloaded.

* * *

When your life was on the line, time seemed to slow down to an excruciating pace. You were hyper-aware of your surroundings, no matter how innocent they may appear. Every detail in the place, from the walls, to the large table and hologram projector setup, to the way too clean floor, all the way up to the various stances and stressed-induced facial expressions were noted.

Every step that could be made was slow and methodical and required an amount of control that some found to be very difficult.

For his part, Nightwing was keeping his attention more on his two partners, both teens who found themselves in a situation that was way over their heads. Deathtraps were not something that was covered in the vigilante curriculum, or at least theirs, so this was new for everybody. He could see the fear in Spoiler's eyes, the tautness in Bluebird's face as she fought to remain calm. She was probably thinking about her brother.

Meanwhile, he could only think about the worst case scenario and if something happened to either of them. Since death was indeed on the menu, was he about to have another Red Hood on his hands? Having to carry another fallen teammate to their grave was not something he wanted to do again or wished for his worst enemy to do.

"Think you can use your sword?" he overheard Manhunrter calling out to Katana.

Katana was quick to respond. "What has been used to affect that young girl has blocked my contact with my sword. We do not have any mystical means at our disposal."

"If we could get someone to the door, someone who could jury rig it open, or, I don't know, force it open," Black Canary threw out, the blonde-haired woman not yet done with brainstorming a way out of this.

Seemingly giving someone an idea, Red Robin's armor-clad warrior called out to Starfire, "I think between you and I we can do that."

"Careful!" Red Robin cautioned. "They're going to have the door rigged as well."

"I can try and rewire it," Bluebird volunteered as she took an instinctive step forward.

After spending so much putting himself into danger, Nightwing had developed a bit of sixth sense, and right now it was screaming at him. He leapt and tackled the blue-dyed haired girl, knocking the both of them out of the way as a series of arrows fired from the nearest wall. They landed on the floor, Bluebird giving an "oomph!" as her back collided with the flat surface.

"MOVE!" Huntress screamed.

Nightwing had figured that at the same time. That danger sixth sense hadn't shut up, and so he rolled himself to aside, taking Bluebird with him and not stopping until after that were out of the way of a set of spikes that dropped from the ceiling, slamming down onto the floor where the two vigilantes had once been.

Nightwing's heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes wide behind his mask, while his arms held the shorter girl to his body. He wasn't aware how deep his breathing was or that he was trembling.

That had been too close.

"That's crazy. What else did they put in here?" Due to how young that voice was, the older vigilante figured it was one of Red Robin's pals, and the incredulousness was something else he was also feeling. It seemed like there were all sorts of traps and no one trap was the same as another.

There was no telling what else was in here.

* * *

Maggie Sawyer crept down the hallway, slowly approaching a corner, one that led into an intersecting hall. Angling her body until her back was pressed up against the wall, she came to a stop right next to the corner, holding her gun up by her face.

Just when she thought things couldn't get any crazier, Gotham had to one-up her previously-held assumption and throw something else at her.

It had started out of nowhere. She had just finished off giving up a couple new officers a tour of the GCPD. They were new recruits and had been detained by HR for some unknown reason. With Maggie about to go off-shift, she didn't see any harm staying behind a little while, show the new guys the precinct, then head home.

So when the shadows began to move and come to life, she knew something was wrong. Entire hallways had gone black, swallowing up officers left and right. She heard guns being fired and screams shortly after. She had taken off down the other way, fleeing the shadows before she two was consumed.

Of course, she couldn't be chased just by darkness. She had stumbled upon rotting corpses that lumbered towards her. A few shots of her gun took care of them, but now she was fully aware she wasn't alone.

Which brought her to here. Steeling her nerves, she whirled around the corner, pointing her gun in front of her. Thankfully, there was nothing in the corridor. Pulling her gun back, holding it by her head once more, Maggie chanced a glance down the hallway she had just come down. Again, there was nothing in that direction.

Alright, she needed to find some cover. As much as she would love getting to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on. It was best to find some place to lie low. Once she did, she could go find some of her other officers and get them to hold the position until they regrouped.

Creeping down the new hallway, she reached a door, one hand swiftly taking hold of the doorknob and giving it a turn. The knob didn't budge, indicating that it was locked. _Okay, moving on…_

Heading further down the hall, she came to another door, finding it locked as well. The next door, however, turned out to be unlocked and she swung the door open. Again leading with her gun primed and ready, she checked her corner, finding the room dark. There was a nearby lightswitch, one she flicked on, which caused the whole room to be lit up with light.

What she found was a storage closet and a rather empty one at that. Alright this was a good place to get her bearings. With the light available, she took another look around, finding herself the only person there.

Then something happened. For a moment, she could've sworn she saw what looked like light shine through the cracks between the tiles on the floor. It was quick, sudden, and Maggie wasn't sure if her eyes were just playing tricks on her. However, she did feel a little nauseated all of a sudden, a sense of disorientation making her stumble for a step. Shaking her head, she fought back the urge to throw up, stifling it, and feeling her senses returned to normal.

That was...weird. Despite the fear and alarm she had been feeling, she hadn't felt as if she wanted to puke. That had never happened to her before, even after all the incredible things she had witnessed in Metropolis. She was a veteran and knew how to handle herself.

That's when she heard something. A sound. Leaning back into the hallway, she looked down the way she had come, towards the intersecting corridor.

There, the sound again and this time she was certain it was a footstep. It happened again and again, growing louder. Stepping into the room, she turned so that she leaned against the doorframe, using it as cover as she took aim with her gun down the hall. Whatever was approaching, she'd make sure it wished it hadn't come here.

Then something emerged into sight at the end of the hall. It was tall, well-built. It was dressed in red and blue, a pattern Maggie found all too familiar, especially the red cape and the large S on its chest.

However, Maggie felt her heart sink and her stomach drop. Her eyes widened as she noticed pale skin, lips turned up and red, revealing a maniacal smile. "Oooooooohhhhhh, Sawyer," Superman called out, his eyes bulging from his face, taking a lumbering step towards her. "I think I foooooound yoooooou."

This...this couldn't be. It was Metropolis all over again, when Superman damn near destroyed the city. She couldn't get the image out of her head of the Kryptonian, laughing and joking as he tore down buildings and crashed cars and helicopters alike. Bullets had bounced off his body like peanuts and he just stood there, giggling right before he shoved his hands into the asphalt and ripped the road up.

Why the hell was he here?

Though she knew it was useless, she had to fight back. Maggie Sawyer did not lay down for anything or anyone. She had witnessed the incredible feats of Superman, survived his manic wrath, weathered the strangeness of Gotham, and made it through the war with Bane.

She would not back down now nor ever.

Taking aim, she fired her gun.

* * *

The traps seemed to be making more casualties out of their ideas so far, but that was only going to be temporary. Eventually, one of them would be caught in one of these traps and it would all be over. So far, only two of those teens Red Robin had brought with him were down, but so far still alive.

These close calls, becoming closer and closer with each one triggered, were only going to last so long. Already, Huntress could feel the immense stress she was under beginning to take its toll.

And none of them were closer to the damn door.

She was hyper-aware that every breath she took could be the last one, each one more precious than the last. The tension was fraying her every nerve, and she was the type of person who liked to act rather than wait for the inevitable to happen, so a bad combination all around in this mess.

At least spending all that time with the Bat had cooled her down enough to be more rational, but even that could only go so far. Old habits were demanding some satisfaction, and that would only happen if she could get them all out of here.

"We need to slow down a bit," Red Robin said, his youthfulness holding him back from behind rational himself so his words had a forced quality to them. "Something sets these traps off. Can anyone think of what kind of triggers we're dealing with? Motion sensors? Pressure plates? A guy in a chair pressing random buttons?"

All of those were possible. That they had a man talking and responding to them meant that they were being watched, or at the very least listened to. It could be a guy behind a keyboard activating random traps every time they moved.

Except there was a key detail.

"It has to be motion sensors," Huntress stated. "The room is crisscrossed with laser beams and activate the traps once they've been interrupted. Everyone saw that one beam before robot boy over there got shut down."

"His name is Cyborg," the green kid said helpfully, though right now the purple and black vigilante could care less about names. So the correction was ignored.

"Tell me one of your guys has some kind of spray or powder we can use to see these beams," Wonder Girl urged.

As a matter of fact, she did. Oh, and it seemed like Red Robin carried too, a small canister removed from his belt and sitting in his hand. Pulling hers out, Huntress began to spray the chemical concoction around her.

It took a moment for the particles to find their target, but soon she could see in the immediate vicinity the random lines that went every which way. Some were parallel with the floor, others diagonal, and even one was perpendicular. The important part was that all were stationary, so that was good.

It was a shame she only had one canister on her. Between her and Red Robin, hopefully they had enough to at least make their way to the others.

"Hey, Beast Boy. change into something, an insect, then try and make your way over to me," Red Robin suddenly called out, his head turned in the direction of the green kid.

The heck was he—wait, where did that green kid go? One second he was there, the next he was gone. Manhunter looked surprised as she found herself all alone in that part of the room. Without warning, the green kid, or Beast Boy as he had been called, popped back up out of nowhere and right next to the masked teen exile.

"Dude, this place is covered! The lasers are freaking everywhere!" Beast Boy exclaimed. Then he turned straight to Manhunter and added, "There's a couple by your left foot. You might not want to move it."

Manhunter, in response, froze up, her eyes shooting down to the leg in question.

"Okay, how did you know that?" Huntress demanded.

"Bug eyes see things differently than people eyes," Beast Boy shrugged.

"Can you talk while you're a bug?" Nightwing asked urgently. "If so, you can guide the rest of us to the door."

"Of course he talks. He talks whether we want him to or not," Wonder Girl muttered under her breath.

"Do you think you're up to it?" Red Robin cut in before there could be any arguments. His eyes were only on his green teammate.

"I...I can try," the green teen said, uncertain.

This was not the time for any sort of uncertainty. "Try's not good enough. You need to be pinpoint accurate. Otherwise you're going to get someone killed if they go to the wrong spot," Huntress stated harshly.

The shapeshifter winced, but seemed to grow a pair and give a nod. In about the span of a second, his body shrank and disappeared from the vigilante's sight. "Alright, I'm heading over to you, um, Huntress lady. I'm going right to your shoulder so please, don't swat me."

Okay, so he really could talk as a bug. That was at least one mercy.

"_Circumnavigating the rules, I see._" That voice was back and had everyone's attention. "_Clever, but I'm afraid it violates the house rules. That'll be a penalty._"

A large buzzsaw tore through the floor, moving across the room at a fast pace. It was heading right for her, but fortunately all that time on edge had her jumping out of the way. Thanks to spraying around, she was able to avoid triggering other traps, and keep from causing anymore chaos.

However, there was another vigilante in the way of the saw. Black Canary didn't have the luxury of knowing where another motion sensor was and had to gamble on where to dodge. The blonde vigilante darted to her left, and ended up proving that luck was not on their side.

Four arrows fired from the wall, and the targeted vigilante did not have them in her sights. Already, Huntress was screaming at her longtime friend to move, dodge, whatever, just get out of the way! It was Katana to the rescue, tackling the vulnerable Bird of Prey from the side. Unfortunately, she hadn't acted fast enough as one of the arrows made impact with her shoulder, and two others cut into her back. Those two continued their momentum, creating two large gashes in the Asian woman's back and clattering onto the floor after losing enough speed. The fourth was avoided, but that was little consolation.

"Katana!" Black Canary exclaimed, appalled at the other woman's injury. Already, blood was soaking into her costume, staining the back crimson while the one in her shoulder was stymied by the very arrow causing the wound.

Huntress felt her blood going cold as she stared at the sight.

Their time was running out.

* * *

It was mad chaos. Sarah hadn't seen something like this since Bane had attacked the precinct. Half of the cops in the building had seemingly vanished, walking nightmares taking their place.

She had been right there at the beginning in the bullpen. She and Montoya had been ready to leave when an officer came barreling in, screaming about monsters. Then there were monsters everywhere and she and Montaya just lit up the room.

After that, well, things became disjointed and crazy.

For instance, Sarah had gotten separated from Montoya. She was now on her own without any backup. Not the most ideal situation granted, but at the least she wasn't defenseless. She still had another magazine on her and her gun had only run out of bullets once. Unfortunately, she'd need to find another weapon once she was out of ammo.

She'd cross that bridge when she got to it. In the meantime, she had another objective: find her husband and makes sure he's safe. Undoubtedly he'd be in the thick of things, trying to corral the monsters and rally the men. It was something he was good at doing and his leadership was sorely needed.

Unfortunately, his office was not close enough for her liking. Several hallways and the bullpen stood between her and Jim, and to get there she would have to avoid friendly fire and whatever strange powers the monsters possessed. Some breathed fire, others spat out acid, and another one had such an ear-piercing laugh, she thought she'd go deaf. She was tempted to think it was some sort of bizarre offspring of the Joker with how much it sounded like the demented maniac. Fortunately, someone had put a bullet in it and stopped the laughter.

Holding her gun low, yet ready to point and shoot at a moment's notice, she quickly flew through the halls. Some of the light fixtures in the corridor were damaged, causing some to be completely off, or flickering dim light, which cast an eerie sight. Eyes darting all over the hall, she searched for any pending threats.

Soon, she came up to an intersecting hallway, which she promptly posted herself at the corner. Glancing down the way she came, she made sure nothing was following her and was satisfied there wasn't. Slowly, she then peered around the corner to check the intersecting hall.

Immediately, she jerked her head back. Half a heartbeat later and a gun fired, the bullet hitting the wall next to her. More shots followed, chipping away at the corner as bullets hit the far wall.

Jesus, that was close! Part of her hoped that was just an officer firing because they saw movement. If so, it was easy enough to calm them down and then she'd have someone covering her six. "Stand down!" she shouted. "This is Lt. Gordon!"

"Like hell you are!" a monstrous voice called out, one that sounded familiar, but Sarah was unable to recognize "You can't fool me, dead man!"

_Dead man?_ How original. Slowly, Sarah knelt down so that she could buy herself a half second to once again peak around the corner. Undoubtedly, this creature would be aiming its gun where her head was supposed to be, so coming in at about waist height would force it to drop her gun to re-aim. Steeling her nerves, she then peaked.

Only to find the hallway empty. _Where is it?_ She didn't see a sign of anything anywhere. Seeing all of the doors along the corridor, it either ducked in one of the rooms and was using it as cover to reload, or it took off down the hallway. Sarah wasn't sure which option she preferred.

Still, it was alarming. Whatever monsters were invading, some of them clearly had the ability to use guns. That made then a thousand times more dangerous. Also, she didn't like the idea of how the monster got ahold of a gun. The options weren't all that great.

She needed to get back on the move. No way was she going to sit here and wait for whatever it was to regroup and continue to shoot at her. Darting past the hallway, she continued down the one she was in. Hopefully she could find someone, preferably her husband, and they could figure out how to end this attack.

* * *

This was really going bad. Now they had three injured or incapacitated. Out of all of them, Katana seemed to have the worst injuries. One could only hope those arrowed didn't have poison on them or else they might lose another one.

"_Quite the heroics. A shame that they weren't enough,_" the voice mocked.

"Shut your Goddamn mouth!" Huntress roared, glaring in the direction of the table and its hologram projector.

Nightwing, for his part, was holding any anger he had. That was much easier to do than you would expect, but that was mainly because fear was gripping his mind. Specifically, it was fear for the girls. He had already saved Bluebird from not one but two traps. Katana's injury only revealed that their luck was running out. The next one could be the last one for any of them.

How was he going to get them out of there? How were any of them going to get out of here?

"_Bottle that temper, Huntress, lest I revoke the deal I am about give to you._"

"You want to deal now?" the vigilante in question growled in response.

"_As entertaining as your struggle to survive has been, time is beginning to run out. My high rollers are getting impatient with your slow pace, and while I could watch you all night and the following day, I do have a reputation to keep. So here is my wager._"

On the far side of the room, all but one of the lights cut off. Of the one that remained lit, its light shined down on a red-colored phone. It looked like one of those old rotary phones, complete with a twisting wire that connected the receiver to the bulky placeholder. How any of them had missed it was a question in and of itself.

"_This phone will begin to ring. If you are able to answer it, all of the traps set up with be disabled, the door will unlock, and you will all be allowed to leave. However, if after five rings and it is not answered, the room will be filled with a deadly nerve agent, one appropriated from a certain country of Syrians. There is not a lot of time to think about this one, you will all have to act. Bonus points will be given if you don't set off a single trap._"

For those who were still able to move, they met each other's eyes. Depending on the person, there was suspicion, confusion, a couple with hope, or stoicism. That was all in the first few seconds before it was recalled that all around them were booby traps waiting to be set off.

Surely there was a way to meet the criteria laid out, unless this was a cruel trick. Could they trust one another to not act rashly and make a mad dash for potential salvation?

In Huntress' opinion, seeing some of the younger ones with fire in their eyes, hardening with determination, she had a feeling that doing this in a calm, reasonable manner was not going to happen. However, someone needed to take charge and do it now before desperation took over.

Hell, her body was itching to get moving _NOW_ and it was taking all of her willpower not to give in. A panicked rush was just what that bastard wanted.

They couldn't give him the satisfaction.

The phone began to ring.

Caution was thrown to the wind as multiple vigilantes decided to say, "Fuck it," and began charging.

* * *

The police scanner was going haywire. It had been going on for several minutes, something Batman found disturbing and worrisome. He drove as fast as he could, Zatanna in the passenger seat. Had this been her first time in the car, he was certain she would've been bracing herself. Instead she sat there dainty, watching through the windshield as he dodged traffic.

"What are you thinking?" the magician asked as he nearly ran a car off the road, said car blaring its horn after them.

"You may want to elaborate," he returned.

"You think this is the next way Hush is trying to get at you?" she suggested.

"Possibly," he acknowledged. Even now, the radio was still sounding off officers screaming and shouting for assistance. Apparently something was attacking the GCPD headquarters, but nothing really made sense. Monsters? Robots? Aliens? Perhaps if it was just one, he would be able to make sense of it all. Until then, he needed to get on sight and investigate.

"But you think it might be something else," the dark-haired woman pressed.

"More than likely. The panic and what's being said aren't typical of an attack, not in the way you or I would think. The Court of Owls and Bane both attacked the precinct and neither one sounded like this."

"Yet, you can't rule Hush out either."

"You're learning," he smirked as he glanced at her.

"I'm not just a pretty dame in fishnets, you know," she retorted, returning his smirk with one of her own.

Making a turn, the GCPD came into sight. Immediately, Batman could feel something was wrong. That might have had something to do with the random broken windows, but the fact he didn't see any traffic on this road also alerted him to something else being wrong.

Pulling up in front of the precinct, the canopy was already sliding open. An instant after the engine was killed, Batman was out of the car, his boots landing solidly on the ground. Zatanna was out as well before the canopy slid back into place.

"So, where do you want to start?" the magician asked.

Batman didn't bother responding. Instead he marched right up to the front doors, climbing up the steps to reach them, and shoved them open.

The sight beyond them startled the dark-clad man. The front desk was a mess, with papers and folders scattered about the floor. Furniture in the waiting area was overturned, as if someone had shoved them over. More alarming was that there were bullet holes in the desk, walls, floor, and ceiling.

What the hell happened here?

That's when he heard it. It was faint, but not so faint that he could have missed it. It sounded like popping sounds, which were going off fast and sharp. He knew those sounds by heart; they were gunshots, muffled by the echo in the hallways. Looking to a doorway, the doors partially opened, one ajar and the other practically hanging from one of its remaining hinges, he made his way to them. He tried to move the hanging door slightly so that he didn't bump into it, but all that did was cause the hinge to give out and send the door crashing to the floor. Batman had to shove it away from him to ensure it didn't topple over on him.

If the waiting room was bad, the corridor was worse. There were bullet holes here as well, but light fixtures were damaged, a couple of which were completely off while one close by was flickering, each flicker causing sparks to pop and fizzle. Rolling his shoulders so that his cape enveloped him, Batman reached to his belt and pulled out a bat-shaped shuriken in each hand.

"Alright, I'm getting haunted house feelings about this place," Zatanna whispered to him from behind. "Or even Alien flashbacks. Do you think you can fight off a xenomorph if you have to?"

Though ridiculous and juvenile, Batman wasn't going to brush off his friend's poor attempt at humor. Anything could have happened at this point.

Moving down the corridor, the only sounds he could pick up was Zatanna's high-heeled shoes click and clacking on the floor, along with the buzz from the broken wiring from the sparking light fixture. Every so often, he'd pick up a gunshot, but it was clearly too far away to be a concern right now.

And then he heard a loud _bang. _That was shortly followed by scuffling and it was close by. A couple doors down, there was an open doorway, light pouring out of it, only for shadows to dance over the light. Someone or something was in there.

Hurrying up his pace, Batman reached the doorway just before a police officer came flying through the threshold, his back slamming into the wall opposite the door. Yanking out his gun, he fired a couple shots right into the room, the officer shouting with every squeeze of the trigger.

And then he stopped, huffing and puffing, right before he glanced to the Dark Knight. "Monster!" he cried out before he jerked his gun up to point at him.

In a flash, Batman threw open his cape. Though he still held shuriken in his hands, he didn't hesitate as he swung his left arm up, his forearm colliding with the cop's gun arm and shoved it out of the way, just before the man fired another round. Throwing his other arm out, he sent the shuriken flying through the air, where one end embedded itself in the wall. This allowed him to curl his fingers back, exposing his palm. Thrusting it forward, his palm struck beneath the officer's chin, forcing his head back where the back of his skull cracked against the wall. Instantly, the officer went limp and slumped to the floor.

What the hell had that been about? Staring down at him, Batman then looked through the doorway and found himself shocked. The room itself was a break room and sitting on the floor, back against the wall, was another officer, but this one was bleeding from what looked like gunshot wounds to the shoulder and abdomen. The man was weakly shifting around, but it was clear he was in bad shape.

"Okay, I'm officially stumped," Zatanna admitted as she looked at both officers.

"Me too," Batman agreed. "Can you stabilize him?"

She nodded. "I should be. What do you plan on doing?"

"Figuring out what's going on here." He paused. "Take precautions. If someone's released Scarecrow's fear toxin here, we might have just exposed ourselves."

"That's easy." Zatanna reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder. "Tnarg su raelc sdnim," she chanted and for a moment there was a flash of white light. At least that's what his eyes saw of him. For the magician, it looked as if a white aura flashed over here and disappeared just as quickly. "That should prevent anyone messing with our heads with that gas," she told him.

He nodded. Then he turned and strode down the hallway, yanking out the shuriken in the wall as he passed by it. He picked up his pace then as he went jogging, even as Zatanna darted into the break room to help the bleeding officer.

A few turns and up a couple flights of stairs and the vigilante soon found the doors to the Major Crimes Unit, where Gordon's office would be. Surprisingly he didn't run into any other officers, but he definitely saw more of their handiwork no matter where he went. However, as he came to the MCU, he could hear the sound of gunshots growing louder and louder. Reaching the doors, he shoved them opened.

If he was shocked by the sight of two cops fighting, he was stunned in abject horror. The MCU's bullpen was a warzone, with desks overturned, untold damage throughout the room, and cops discharging their weapons. However, it was at who that overwhelmed him.

The cops, they were shooting at each other.


	24. Death in the Family

Death in the Family

It was hard to tell what was happening inside, but the sounds coming from the precinct gave away that it was violent. The way the cops were guided in whether through fear or some other means, it gave what was normally a very busy place an eerie look as all activity outside of it dried up.

Hush gazed at the result with a little satisfaction. So far, it was all going to plan. However, he was aware that this could go both ways, a double edged sword to come back and bite him and serve as an obstacle between himself and his goal. That's why the rest of the card-themed brats were with him; between their brawn and abilities, carving their way through the turmoil would be simple.

"Have you finished?" he asked aloud, not looking at Ace.

In reply, he received a soft, "Mmhmm."

Nodding his head, the bandaged man announced, "We're going in. I want you, Ace, to keep up the good work and keep the cops distracted. The rest of you will have some fun while clearing the way. Everybody is free game except for the target. I'll deal with that one myself and it's rude not to show up for an appointment."

"You made an appointment?" King asked, probably giving him an incredulous look.

"Now whenever did I say that?" Hush retorted, lips curving into a smirk. "Ten, do me a favor and scout ahead. Don't forget, you're a cop's worst nightmare, a perp immune to bullets. Put it to good use."

Ten did, breaking down a set of doors and trampling over anyone that got in his way. Jack and King followed soon after, and Queen would have as well, except she was stopped for a particular task.

"Make sure no one comes up from behind," he instructed the impatient girl. "Whatever they're seeing, they will see us as threats, and there's no sense in tempting fate in hoping they distract themselves."

"Yes, of course, _I_ have to work," Queen grumbled, crossing her arms as she looked away.

Grabbing her chin tightly and forcing the disgruntled teen to look at him, Hush reiterated, "This is all business, so be professional. If you want, you can kill whoever gets past the boys, but do your job."

Shoving the chastised blonde away, he added, "Stay close, Ace, and make sure the target is in his full capacity. I want him lucid at least."

Without waiting another second, Hush led the way into the police department, listening to the shouts and screams and gunfire, and noting how far away they were. The walls were littered with bullet holes and the floor covered in all sorts of trash consisting of paperwork, garbage, or the broken bodies of officers who the boys had already worked over.

Up ahead, he saw a flash of light shoot across a hallway, a dead giveaway for King. Muffled screams to the left revealed Jack wrapped around a cop, the man's cries of terror managing to slip through the flexible body. Loud crashes could be heard, and since there was no light involved, that had to be Ten.

Queen scoffed but said nothing, knowing that anything she said would not be listened to. Ace said absolutely nothing as was par for the course. Hush slipped out a gun, but let his arm dangle at his side, not in the least bit concerned about all the violence.

As he led the way, the bandage-faced man murmured, "I don't think they changed the office recently..."

* * *

The shuriken flew out of Batman's hands, whirling through the air until each one collided with the head of two officers, each one trying to gun the other down. Their pained cries of surprise rang out as they collapsed to the floor.

That was two down, too many more to go.

Unfortunately, that may have proved to be an impulsive move on the vigilante's part. Both attacks on the officer did not go unnoticed and nearby cops looked to their fallen comrades before searching for what had struck them. That's when they all saw him front stage and center and the gunfire tapered off.

That was quickly followed by each and every one of those guns pointing right at him.

A disjointed cacophony of screams rang out, Batman not able to make out what was being said as each cop's words mingled with that of the others. The gist he got was many of them were terrified and demanding to know what he was. That was another point to fear toxin being the culprit here.

However, he was not one to stay in a very deadly position. A hand had already reached into a pouch on his belt and he had a smoke pellet in hand. Throwing it at his feet and seeing the cloud explode all around him, the vigilante pulled out his grapple gun and fired it at the ceiling, immediately repelling off the floor.

He wasn't a moment too soon as gunfire once again began to fire, only this time the bullets were ripping into the smoke cloud and tearing into the wall and doorway. On the plus side, these men and women of law enforcement weren't firing at each other anymore.

That would only last for so long. As the smoke cloud wafted up to the ceiling, right where Batman clung to his grapple, he was very well aware of the ticking clock this diversion had left. The moment that cloud was gone, the officers would go searching for his whereabouts and he needed to not be where he was. Preferably, he needed to be on the ground and incapacitating these people so that they didn't cause further harm.

"Zana, I need some help," he barked into his comm link.

Thankfully, the magician answered him rather promptly. _"Where are you? I'm looking for you everywhere and I can't find—"_

"Listen, I have a room full of cops shooting at each other—at least they were. Now they're firing at me."

"_What did you do to them? Did you eat the last donut from their break room?"_

Oh, great, she was into jokes now. Now wasn't the time for them. "I need you to get rid of their guns," he growled through gritted teeth, in no mood for her little anecdotes. "Can you do that?"

"_Yeah, yeah, I've got you covered. Just a sec."_

It took longer than a second, but one by one, then twos, then whole groups, the gunfire came to a screeching stop. There were cries of surprise from the officers, though due to the smoke cloud, Batman wasn't able to see the reason why. The moment he heard the last gunshot, he began swinging his body back and forth. When he felt he had enough momentum on a forward swing, he let go of his grapple and sailed through the thinning smoke.

Exiting out the other side of the cloud, he saw just what Zatanna had done. In several of the officers' hands were bouquets of flowers, toy water guns, and in a couple cases oversized fish. The officers were staring dumbly at what had previously been their firearms, a few of them having dropped them to the floor. Regardless, that left them without their primary weapons.

Dropping to the floor by two such officers, Batman kept low as he extended a leg out, pivoting on one foot, which caused him to spin around. He kicked out the legs of the officers, causing them to fall to the ground with cries of surprise. One of them hit their head on the corner of a desk, which knocked him out cold. The other just collapsed to the floor, using his arms to prop himself up. Rising up on his pivoting foot, Batman shot up to his full height even as he continued to spin, swinging his kicking leg as he did so. His foot nailed the still-unconscious officer in the side of his face, causing the man to join his friend as an unconscious lump on the floor.

That's when another officer came rushing at him, going in low as he tried to tackle the Dark Knight. Coolly, Batman regarded the charging cop before he put all his weight on one leg and leaned back, turning his body to a side. Raising his other leg, he snapped it forward at the last second, his foot smashing right into the man's face. Immediately, his head stopped right where his face and Batman's foot met, the rest of his body continuing to move forward. As his feet swung up, the man flew a short distance through the air before landing on his back on the floor.

This was a lot better. Though there were still many officers standing, ready to attack, he could handle them this way. While there was the possibilities some officers had back-up guns on their person or in one of the damaged desks in the room, it would take them several seconds to get their hands on them.

And those were seconds they would not have.

* * *

"He's here."

Hush paused, turning slightly in Ace's direction but not facing her fully. His search was brought to a halt for the moment as this development required immediate attention.

There was only one "he" that it could be. So Bruce was on the scene, wasn't he? Heh, always six steps behind, though he had a nasty habit of being able to catch up. With all the noise, it would be hard to pinpoint the bat-themed vigilante by sound alone.

"Shall I deal with him?" Queen offered eagerly.

He shook his head in the negative. "No. You stay close." Then to Ace, "Turn down the intensity. We wouldn't want to get on Hurt's bad side now of all times. Make sure Batman is not affected, also our target, but everyone else continues to lose their minds. If nothing else, they'll slow him down."

"You're such a bore," Queen complained, scowling. Behind her, a couple cops ran out into the hallway, spotted the trio, and aimed their firearms at them. Without looking, Queen gestured with a flourish of her hand, stopping the weapons from firing. When there were no gunshots, the cops took their eyes off the group of three to examine their guns, panic welling within them.

With another gesture, those gun slammed into their faces, incapacitating them with the force behind the blows.

"Once I've taken care of business, you'll be able to do what you want," Hush replied as he resumed the search. "Until then, do as I say."

* * *

_RRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG!_

The first sound that signaled their doom rang throughout the bunker, the phone counting down its first ring. Multiple vigilantes and superpowered teens were leaping in the direction of the red-colored device in the hopes of answering it and fulfilling their part of the task that would, fingers crossed, let them out of this hell.

Naturally, they would have to get past all the traps that stood in their way first.

Arrows and spears fired from the walls, swinging scythes sliced through the ceiling, and long, pointed spikes burst through the floor, along with other miscellaneous traps all activated as each and every motion sensor was tripped.

Twisting her body about, Black Canary did her best to avoid what she could. The spears might have been overkill in her opinion, but since this was a deathtrap, it was probably not overkill enough. No sooner had this thought occur to her when something new was added to the mix. Three large blades, curved like crescent moons spun like propeller blades as they traveled from one end of the room to the other. Unfortunately, she was about to run right in their way, but was able to pull herself short at the last second, narrowly avoiding being sliced up like deli meat.

_RRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG!_

"Cover!" Red Robin yelled, running the electric current through his cape and hardening it. While it would provide some protection, if he wanted to move quickly, he would have to sacrifice the amount of space he could cover with his makeshift shield.

Fortunately, Starfire, and a second later, Wonder Girl, picked up on what he meant and were taking points at his sides. As traps were triggered, Starfire began firing starbolts at anything that moved, people excluded naturally. Wonder Girl took a more defensive approach, primarily using her gauntlets to try and deflect any projectiles launched at them.

Starbolts incinerated or halted anything that drew too close. As she widened the perimeter that she and Wonder Girl formed around their teammate, the Tamaranian fired off more blasts in the vicinity of the Batclan, providing some cover for Red Robin's former team.

Sending out a hope and a prayer, the masked teen began his own dash. He could feel projectiles not intercepted by the two girls impact his hardened cape, and he clenched his teeth together and he felt the shockwaves of force cause his shield to tremble.

_RRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG!_

Nightwing was giving his partners a quick, "Keep yourselves safe," even as he himself was throwing himself into danger to try to reach that goddamn phone. The fact that everyone was going for it turned the place into a madhouse of death, of which that came in all freaking direction. How the guy who put this together was able to hide so many traps and do it without anyone being the wiser was a miracle somehow.

Even with this backhanded praise, that didn't stop him from putting his background in acrobatics to use, twisting his body in ways that only a former trapeze artist could. The whizzing of arrows, and blades, and whatever else as each sharp and deadly object came within a hair's breadth of hitting him was heard as plainly as any normal, everyday sound. The rings that counted down until their doom was deafening as a result.

With a foot, he used the table itself as a springboard, utilizing all his midair skills to avoid as many traps as possible, probably setting more off as a result, but damn it, he could not let those girls get hurt!

Meanwhile, a certain shapeshifter had also gone into action, changing into an insect with the hopes of trying to avoid all those invisible lasers in the air and get to that thing that voice said was a phone. Was that even a phone? It sure didn't look like one.

The downside of becoming a small bug became very clear, though after the third ring. Even though he was small and could avoid a lot of stuff, he could only go so far. As fast as he could go, there was no way he'd reach at this rate so he needed to be faster! Like—oh, he knew! From a bug to cheetah, Beast Boy shifted and man was he putting on the—

Fire! Flamethrowers from the floor shot out flames from a trigger trap and that was enough to break his concentration. The green changeling was able to stop himself before being cooked, but not all of him was able to stop in time because his HAIR WAS ON FREAKING FIRE PUT IT OUT PUT IT OUT PUT IT OUT!

_RRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG!_

The fourth ring rang out, desperation powered the fear-laced and desperate vigilantes to stretch out their arms, all reaching for the ringing phone. The seconds stretched out as hope slowly began to turn to terror. Black Canary had been probably the closest, but trying to limit any kind of damage to her person had slowed her too much. The same with Huntress, though she was slower than her blonde teammate. Manhunter was in the same boat, though she attempted to clear the way before her by shooting energy beams from her staff. Again, she too was slowed down due to caution.

Even with Wonder Girl and Starfire's efforts, Red Robin was unable to make as much distance as he had wanted. Trying to protect himself with a very bulky, though lightweight shield had worked against him. Nightwing's own acrobatics, though carrying him far, didn't get him far enough either. And Beast Boy was too distracted putting his hair out before he could suffer any burns to his scalp.

The injured or incapacitated vigilantes and teens were too distracted themselves, trying to keep themselves alive and without adding anymore wounds to themselves. Cyborg remained on the floor, pressing his fleshy face against the sterile floor, Raven kept crouched as close to the floor as she could, her own abilities limited by the sigils etched in the walls. Katana;s movements were too limited by her own wound, and any maneuvers she could do would only tax her more.

Spoiler was paralyzed with fear and panic, her life beginning to flash before her eyes. So much undone, so much left unsaid, and worst of all, she was single. Bluebird, by the third ring, had picked herself up and tried to enter the mad dash, but it was hopeless for her to even get there in time. The sounds of traps firing off, lethal projectiles flying through the air, the crackle of electricity and flames, a loud whoosh far behind them all, none of which was paid attention to as the final ring began.

_RRRIII-_THUNK!

The phone clattered on the floor, a batarang with flares of electricity run about it impaling the device and frying its insides. The receiver fell off of its base, and simultaneously, the traps stopped triggering as a stunned silence followed.

Several head snapped towards the door, where a dark-colored angel in the form of Batgirl await, arm outstretched from the _open_ doorway. Her head shifted slightly, then tilted to the side as the savior of the hour took in all the attention now directed towards her. Shifting her weight as she lowered her arm, the newly arrived vigilante said, "Sorry for being late."

The only reply was the sound of multiple footsteps dashing her way, as the Network and teenaged company fled for their lives to salvation.

* * *

The door was flung open, Batman storming through it. Behind him was the bullpen, eerily quiet considering the all-out battle that had been raging only moments before. It wasn't too surprising to him since he had just beaten down the last officer only moments earlier, effectively ending the conflict.

However, just because he had finished with the room didn't mean the frenzied panic was over. Reinforcements were on the way as evidenced by a couple officers flying around a corner further down the hallway.

Picking up his pace, Batman took off running at them. The distance between them closed practically instantly. Lunging at the closest cop, Batman bent his arm even as he swung it upward, ramming his elbow right into the man's face. The man was thrown off his feet from the blow, crashing to the floor in a heap.

Feet touching back down on the floor, Batman swung himself to face the second officer. By then, the cop was drawing his pistol, raising it up to point it at the vigilante. Dropping his raised elbow to his side, Batman swung up his other arm, his forearm collided with the officer's own, knocking the gun upward. The jostling caused by the block caused the gun to go off, firing a bullet up into the ceiling.

Shooting his other hand up, he grabbed the officer by the collar of his uniform. Twisting his body around, Batman shoved his shoulder into the cop's chest even as he pulled on the shirt. This allowed him to leverage the man up into the air. Continuing to pull he dropped to a knee, gravity kicking in, which helped him smash the officer' face first into the floor.

As the rest of the officer slumped down into a pile of body parts, Batman stood back up on his feet and turned around to return going down the hallway. At that moment, a couple doors at the end of the hall swung open and a couple more cops dashed into the corridor, guns raised.

Without hesitating, Batman spun to aside, cape billowing out behind him as his hands dropped to his belt to pull out a couple of shuriken. By the time he was facing the men again, he had sent the projectile flying through the air. Each bat-shaped shuriken collided with the heads of the officers, causing them to cry out before they dropped to the floor unconscious.

Four more cops down; God knows how many left. Marching forward again, Batman was about to turn a corner into the hallway the first two cops had emerged from, when he heard shouts. Stopping, he looked to the double doors, which were slowly swinging shut. He was certain the cries had come from there.

Moving towards the doors, he cautiously opened them and found another hallway, one that immediately turned to the left. Turning, he found another corridor, this one filled with several officers, all of whom were lying on the floor. Almost as concerning was the damage to the walls and floor, singe marks marring the sheetrock and tile.

That's when another scream rang out and Batman began hurrying down the hallway, reaching another intersecting hall. The moment he reached it, he found the cause for the hopefully unconscious men and the damage to the walls.

Laughing to each other were King and Jack, surrounded by other officers. Jack's arm was slowly returning to its normal size, having been stretched out to attack the police no doubt.

"Nice one," King was complimenting Jack. "Ten bucks says I'll get a headshot on the next pig."

"You're on," Jack agreed.

Batman scowled at the two teens. So they were here; that reduced the likelihood that fear toxin was involved. These kids wouldn't know how to use the gas effectively, not to mention they weren't wearing gas masks.

As King raised a hand up and aimed it down the hallway, his and Jack's backs towards the Dark Knight, the vigilante pulled out two round balls. They were similar to grenades in design, but they had a much different result.

Giving a sharp whistle, he immediately obtained the youths' attention, the two whipping their heads to look towards him. "Hey, look who it is!" Jack exclaimed, his body twisting around as he began to stretch out his arms, legs, and even his neck, elongating himself to look much larger. "I was hoping we would—"

Before he could complete his sentence, Batman threw one of his round grenades at him. Taking into account his power set, not to mention their previous encounter, he knew the young meta would allow himself to be hit. After all, there wasn't much that could hurt his bendy, twisty body.

As the vigilante predicted, his grenade hit Jack right at his left hip, where it immediately detonated. However, instead of a fiery explosion, a burst of blue frost erupted. Instantly, Jack cried out as if he were being stabbed by a thousand knives.

King jumped where he stood, his eyes widening as he stared at Jack's hip. Spreading out the detonation site, ice crystals grew up and down Jack's body, reaching down his leg and crawling across his stomach. Swinging his other arm, Batman sent the other freeze grenade flying, this one colliding against Jack's right shoulder.

Following their fight at the Amos Fortune Casino, Batman had taken the threat of the Royal Flush Gang seriously, so much so that he began devising some countermeasures. In the case of Jack, he had developed the aforementioned freeze grenades using Victor Fries' Freeze Gun in the Cave. The technology that allowed the gun to fire its infamous freeze ray had helped him re-create the effect only in a smaller, and less fatal form.

As ice grew all over Jack's body, the teen screaming all the while, Batman stormed up to the distracted King, reaching him in a matter of seconds. The moment he realized where the vigilante was, King threw a hand up to fire an energy blast, only for the Dark Knight to catch the young man's hand, his own wrapping around his wrist. With a sharp turn, he twisted King's wrist, causing the young man to cry out as he adjusted body to relieve the strain racing up his arm.

Batman calmly held King's arm like that, watching him gritted his teeth as he winced from the pain. Then, "You're in my way," he grunted right before he drew his other fist back, and then slammed it into King's face. The force of the blow caused the young man's head to jerk back, where it collided with the wall behind him, knocking him out cold.

"W-w-what d-did you d-d-d-do to m-me?" he then heard Jack chatter out.

Looking up to the ice sculpture that Jack had become, the dark-clad man observed how the ice had covered the youth's body, encasing his long arms and legs and body. The only part of him that wasn't covered in ice was his face and a portion of the top of his head. "I froze you," he bluntly responded.

"I-I can see that," Jack snapped at him. "I-I w-want to know h-how."

Batman merely stared at him before he turned away, marching down the hallway once more. There wasn't any point in trying to explain the science since it was wasted on someone of his intelligence. "Hey! G-get back here!" Jack shouted after him. "You can't l-leave me like t-t-this!"

"I can and will," Batman called out over his shoulder, not even bothering to break stride. "Someone will be along to thaw you out eventually."

"I'll kill you for t-this! You h-hear me?!"

The Dark Knight paused long enough to look at the frozen teen over his shoulder. "No, you won't."

* * *

When all Hell broke loose, Gordon had holed himself up in his office. You didn't need to be a genius to know that the department was under attack again, but he had to give points for how bizarre it was. Seeing his officers targeting one another, shooting at each other, and when they ran out of bullets, grabbed anything they could get their hands on to beat themselves have to death was shocking for the first few minutes.

When he had tried to demand what was going on and get some order in this mess, his attempt had been answered with a healthy dose of gunshots. The commissioner had locked himself in and armed himself, giving a little prayer than he wouldn't have to use his weapon even in self-defense.

That barrage of bullets had been a blessing in disguise, because as soon as he was out of sight, the men and women in blue and turned back to one another to continue whatever this was. As the minutes crawled ever so slowly, the glass windows that had lined his officer were shattered by stray shots, the blinds torn holes into them so it gave him something to peek through.

Not taking any chances, Gordon was using his desk as a shield, even as he waited for something to happen, such as someone barging in. Maybe they would try to use his office for shelter, but that left the question if they would be an ally or a hostile.

In the few minutes he could afford, the commissioner wracked his brain, trying to figure out what was causing all of this. The suddenness of this breakout was a clue, but what it meant continued to go over his head. He had suspected maybe some chemical agent was in the air, like a certain fear toxin, except there was one problem with that theory. He himself had not been experiencing anything out of the ordinary, like a hallucination. The other officers were, and Gordon knew he hadn't spontaneously gained some kind of immunity from it. Inoculation only lasted so long, after all, so he had to be as vulnerable as them.

Mind control was debated, but he had little knowledge outside of a certain hat-wearing lunatic. Even then, that man was locked up in Arkham, his technology all confiscated or destroyed, and the means to make more denied to him.

So what else did that leave?

Then he heard the door open, the hinges creaking ominously.

"Commissioner Gordon? You can come out now. I know you're in here."

Gordon didn't recognize the voice, so it wasn't one of the officers. That meant two possibilities, the first being this was help that had arrived, and the second was this was the person responsible. Either the commissioner could wait or he could risk it and reveal himself.

Gun at the ready, the mustached man decided to risk it and get some kind of answers.

Looking over his desk, Gordon frowned at the sight. In the doorway stood a man in a trenchcoat, some kind of dark-colored turtleneck sweater underneath it, and more prominently a mess of bandages wrapped around his head. It was a man, the broadness of the shoulders and the stance his posture held up indicated that. There was also a relaxed element to him, like he wasn't concerned about being shot.

Speaking of which, it was eerily quiet now.

"You wouldn't happen to be the cavalry, would you?" the commissioner asked aloud as he stood up to his full height. He held his gun in plain view, ready to aim it at this potential threat is need be.

The bandage-wearing man gave a chuckle. "I'll be upfront with you, Gordon, I'm here for you. It's nothing personal, but you could say I am tying up a loose end that I started years ago."

Gordon raised an eyebrow. A helpful ally this definitely was not. No, this had to be the person responsible, and he had to be new. The commissioner did not recognize any of the weirdos that had attacked the city that happened to look like this, so what he was capable of or what his psychosis could be remained to be seen.

"I have no idea who the hell you are or what you want with me, but if you are responsible for what's happening, then you have the right to remain silent." With narrowed eyes, the commissioner raised his gun, pointed right at the trenchcoat-wearing man.

However his gun continued to raise up, as if some force had taken hold of it. To his surprise, the weapon was yanked out of his grasp and continued going up until the barrel impaled the ceiling and stuck there like some bizarre-looking dart. A feminine chuckle reached the commissioner's ears, directing his attention to an up until now unnoticed girl in a red leotard that exposed a bit too much cleavage.

Unaffected by the strange happenings, the bandage-wearing man continued, "Once upon a time, I tried to destroy your life. At the time, you were under investigation, something to do with a certain picture that had been taken of you. Since the investigator happened to have been having trouble proving your guilt, I thought I would help him out and present some of my own evidence. Like now, it hadn't been personal since you were not, and are not, the person I'm after. Just a means to an end, and nothing more."

If there was one thing that Gordon would never forget, it was that damn picture that the late Vicki Vale had managed to snap of him shaking hands with a certain vigilante. The IA investigation that followed had been a migraine-inducing headache, the investigator being a man who despised him and was determined to make his life hell.

Suddenly, this hostile man's words clicked with a memory, specifically that of a photoshoped picture of him with former Mayor Hill. Forbes had used it as the crown jewel of his case, which fell apart once its fraudulence had been uncovered. This man had been Forbes' anonymous source?

"I don't understand. If I'm not who you're after, then why come after me?" Gordon demanded. The frustration that he had pushed aside all those years ago had reared its head back and now had a target.

"_Beware the man who can strike at a distance_," the bandage-wearing man quoted in reply. "You're his friend, Commissioner. You can deny it to the sheep you have working for you, but I know the truth. I know about your working relationship. And nothing will hurt him more than to fail at protecting a friend, wouldn't you think?"

_The Batman has no friends, he can't. He has people he works with, but that's as far as he can go, not without getting that person hurt, or worse._

This wasn't about him. This was about this man striking a blow against the city's most infamous vigilante. Hurting...killing him was only a means to an end indeed.

"If you think this is going to help you accomplish whatever you want, you're making a big mistake. You're just setting yourself up for a fall, whoever you are. He won't rest until he finds you," Gordon stated, not even a hint of fear in his voice.

The bandage-wearing man smiled, his teeth visible from beneath the bandages. Raising a hand up, a gun came into view as it pointed right at him. The man's next words were anything but reassuring.

"I know."

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Gordon's eyes snapped over to one of the windows, and through a large hole in the blinds, he could see Sarah. Already he knew what stance she had taken, her gun pointed right at his would be killers. Help had finally arrived—

And then her arms snapped upwards, her gun slipping right out of her hands as it too was sent up into the ceiling. The girl in the leotard had turned towards the lieutenant and stretched out an arm—wait, she was one of those metas he had been hearing about, a person with a special powers.

As this ran through his head, the bandage-wearing man didn't take his eyes off the commissioner, though his arm did turn, the barrel of his weapon facing Sarah at point blank range.

A heartbeat past as the gravity of the situation weighed down on all.

Gordon's eyes widened in horror.

A gunshot fired.

"SARAH!"

* * *

Batman was running down the hallway when he heard the gunshot. That wasn't too unusual considering what was going down in the GCPD.

The scream of horror, however, struck him to the core.

"SARAH!"

Urging his body to run faster, the vigilante raced to the end of the corridor, turning the sharp left corner.

Where he came to an immediate stop. Batman's stomach dropped at the sight before him. Lying on the floor was Sarah Gordon, a puddle of blood growing out all around her. Standing a short distance away was Hush. He wasn't facing the police lieutenant, instead staring right into an office, one Batman recognized as Jim Gordon's. Hush had an arm raised, his gun pointing in the direction of Sarah Gordon, which coincidentally pointed to the Dark Knight.

In a flash, Batman had a bat-shaped shuriken in hand and launched it through the air. It spun end over end until it collided with Hush's hand, knocking the gun out of his grasp as he let out a yelp.

All the while, Batman had charged forward, leaping into the air while leaning backwards, extending a leg before him. He flew over Sarah Gordon's body, his flying kick ramming into the side of Hush's bandaged face. The force of the blow knocked him right off his feet, sending him careening through the air until he landed on the floor.

An instant later, Batman landed on his feet as well. Standing next to the wall was a girl with a dead look on her face, as well as Queen, though she didn't so much as move. He paid little mind to both of them as he lunged towards his former friend, who was in the process of pushing himself onto his feet. The dark-clad man reached him when he was on one knee; with one fist drawn back, he threw it at the bandaged man, slamming it into the other side of his face.

Hush's head snapped to one side, spit flying from his mouth as his body twisted to compensate from the punch. Pulling his extended arm back, Batman had his other fist drawn back and swung it, nailing his foe on the same cheek as his flying kick had, jerking Hush's head in the opposite direction.

However, when Batman threw his other fist again, Hush suddenly shot an arm up, successfully blocking the blow. Turning his head, Hush glared right up at the Dark Knight, a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and staining his bandages red. Undeterred, the vigilante pulled his other arm back and threw the fist, only for his foe to quickly bring up his other arm, catching the fist with his own hand as his fingers wrapped around the dark-clad man's knuckles.

Then Hush surged forward and up, forcing Batman backwards a couple steps. Bearing his teeth, Batman fought back against the shove, stopping it before he used his opponent's hold against him, worming his blocked arm around Hush's and grabbing him by the shoulder. In turn, Hush grabbed onto his out of reflex. Twisting his body to the left, he then pushed forward, the move causing Hush to lose his footing briefly, which was more than enough to allow the vigilante to slam him up against the wall.

Unfortunately, the wall slam only dazed the bandaged man for at most a second. Immediately, he pushed off against the sheetrock, forcing Batman backwards until his back rammed into the opposite wall.

"Batman, perpetually late as always," he mocked at the Dark Knight. "I'm so glad you could join us."

"Why?!" Batman barked at him even as he leaned hard into the wall, which allowed him to raise a leg up. Snapping it forward, his foot hit Hush right in the stomach, sending him flying back into the wall across from him.

Grunting from the collision, Hush smirk at him. "Why you ask? We've already gone over this: to get at you by any means necessary." He gestured with a hand towards Sarah Gordon, her husband at her side as he pressed his hands against her wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Rage exploded within the vigilante and he lunged at Hush, throwing a fist for his face. Immediately, the bandaged man blocked the blow, which he then quickly latched his hand onto. Shooting his other hand to the dark-clad man, he grabbed onto edge of his cape, right by his shoulder. Swinging a foot, he kicked out Batman's leg, causing him to stumble even as he pulled on him to a side. Hush forced him to ram right into the wall, causing him to grunt from the impact.

Maneuvering himself before the vigilante, Hush leaned his head back as far as he could before he threw it forward, landing a headbutt against his forehead. Stars exploded in front of his eyes, especially when the back of his own head collided with the wall behind him, eliciting a pained cry from his mouth.

The next thing he knew, he was yanked from his feet and he was thrown down the hallway, where he hit the floor, skidding across it until he came to a stop. Lying there for a moment, he growled lowly before he quickly pushed himself up, scrambling to get back onto his feet.

By the time he had turned around, Hush was right in front of him, leaning to one side as he swung a roundhouse kick. Instinctively, he shot both of his arms up, blocking the kick with one arm while the other braced it against the force of the blow.

That was when Hush leaped off the floor, beginning to spin. Immediately, Batman knew what his foe was doing, attempting to spin around the vigilante to land a spinning kick to the back of his head. There was one problem, however; the hallway they were in was too small for such a move to be successfully—

Hush drew both of his legs up into his body, his feet touching down against the wall. Stopping his spin, he then sprung off the wall, extending one leg back as the other was kept bent at the knee. His knee rammed into Batman's face, causing him to stagger backwards to the wall opposite, his hands and arms pressing against it as he used it to balance himself.

Landing on his feet, Hush backed off a couple steps, holding his fists up in front of him much like a boxer. "Let me guess: you're surprised, aren't you?" he taunted. "You're not the only one that's improved since the last time we fought."

Great, Hush had been taking up martial arts classes. That was annoying. However, if he thought some karate and judo classes were going to give him an edge, then he was sorely mistaken.

"While I would like to continue kicking your ass, my work here is finished." Edging backwards down the hallway towards the Gordons and the girl in black and white, he slowly began lowering his fists to his sides.

By then, Batman was on his feet and stalking towards the bandaged man. "You're not going to get away, not this time," he growled.

"On any other day, perhaps; but I came with an ace up my sleeve." Tilting his head to one side, he glanced to the girl. "If you would do the honors, Ace?"

Eerily, the girl turned her head, her body standing still. Batman glanced at the girl, making a brief moment of eye contact.

Suddenly, the distance between him, Hush, and the Gordons increased exponentially. The hallway stretched out to impossible lengths, the sudden rush of it all causing him to throw his arms out for balance, one of his feet stepping forward to assist as well. The corners where the walls met the ceiling and floor began curve, giving the corridor the impression of tilting to one side. A wave of nausea welled up within the vigilante, forcing him to fight back the urge to vomit.

Stumbling a step forward, the nausea increased as the mother of all migraines exploded within his head. Choking on his own spit, he stumbled to one side, moving a hand up to press against the wall to help steady him. To his surprise, his hand began sinking into the wall, passing right through it. Suddenly, the sheetrock began to melt, large dribbles of white and cream paint running down to the floor. Jerking his hand back, he found it was largely unharmed in spite of the deforming wall.

However, without the support, Batman soon found himself falling to his knees. It wasn't long after that the floor came rushing up towards him. The tiles growing larger and larger until they were the size of a barn.

And then he only knew darkness.

* * *

The door swung open and Zatanna came to a stop.

How? After all of the stairs, hallways, and rooms, how the hell did she find her way _out_ of the GCPD? Looking left to right and back, she didn't see any immediate threats. Glancing behind her, there weren't any cops following that thought she was a crab person, or something.

Stepping out, she allowed the door to swing shut behind her. She must have used an emergency exit considering she was off the side of the building. There was a line of empty parking spots just off the sidewalk and she strode into them, turning around so that she could look up at the precinct.

Admittedly, she had been doing her damnedest to disarm each and every police officer, along with leaving them in dreamland, and that had gotten her lost. She hadn't minded that very much since, you know, there were bullets flying around and she didn't want to get hit by them. So ending up outside wasn't as terrible of a place to be even if it hadn't been her first choice.

However, that left her without having located Batman. It was really looking like splitting up was not a good idea. If only she actually knew the layout to the GCPD precinct, then maybe she would have stood a better chance, kinda like a certain vigilante undoubtedly did.

So she did the next best thing. Hitting her comm link, she called out, "Batman, it's Zatanna, come in."

Predictably, she got no response. That wasn't too surprising if he was in the middle of a fight. So she waited, impatiently of course, before she tried again. "Batman, answer me. Where are you?"

Again, no response. She tried a couple more times, each time growing more and more annoyed. Batman was a pretty good fighter, so no matter what fight he was in, it would have ended by now. He should've responded to her by now.

"Alright, jackass, answer me before I literally turn this place upside down and shake you out," she barked into the comm link.

Suddenly, the door she had exited mere minutes earlier swung open. For a brief moment, the magician thought that perhaps Batman was making a side exit like she inadvertently had. That thought was quickly tossed aside since he had a proclivity for jumping out of windows. It was most likely just a couple frightened police officers looking for a way out.

And she was wrong on both counts. Stepping through the doorway was a man with bandages covering his face. He took one step before he came to a stop, his eyes staring right at her.

"Hey, what's the hold up?" a girl's voice complained. Soon, a girl with platinum hair and a leotard that showed a lot of cleavage moved around him before she stopped, her attention focusing on her.

While Zatanna didn't know who the girl was, she definitely recognized the man. This was Hush, Bruce's former friend turned enemy. And the look he was giving her was predatory, something that made her skin crawl.

"I wasn't expecting this so soon," he remarked, ignoring the girl, "but I was hoping to run into you, whore."

Oh, how original. "You're gonna regret that you had," she shot back.

Hush just smirked. Then he said, "Ace, why don't you give her a piece of your mind?"

That's when another girl, one that she hadn't seen before, emerged from behind the man. Compared to the platinum-haired girl, she was scrawnier and her hair was black. The look on her face was a little chilling to be honest.

However, the moment they made eye contact, Zatanna felt her entire head explode. Pain seized her even as the world around her began to spin. The very colors of the city began to blur into one another, the reds and yellows and greens of the street lights forming longs streaks as they circled around her. The buildings themselves seemed to hold into each other, becoming a long wall that surrounded her.

That's when she heard a soft voice. "Don't resist. You'll only make it worse on yourself."

Oh, like hell she was going to give up. Despite how disorientated she felt, she began to gather her magical energies. "Po—"

That's when an overwhelming force slammed right into her. It wasn't physical at all, but she felt as if she were thrown into a brick wall. The last thing she knew, her eyes went shut and darkness overtook her.

* * *

Author's Note: Alright, I have something to confess, I'm a bit worried about this chapter. Specifically, I'm a bit worried we might have fridged Sarah Gordon. If you're wondering what that means, look up comics and woman in the fridge; it's an old and unfortunate trope where a female character is killed off for no other reason than to develop a male character. What are your guys' thoughts about how this chapter played out? Honest thoughts, if you please.


	25. A Losing Hand

A Losing Hand

"Come on, come on, wake up. Don't do this," Gordon pleaded. As soon as he had seen Batman tackle his—Sarah's—killer, the commissioner had darted out of his office, ignoring everything to reach the side of his wife and render whatever aid he could.

The blood was puddling around her head, and he lifted it up, cradling the still woman to his body, a hand combing into her hair as he tried to get some kind of response. She still felt warm but there was no movement, and with every second that past, the aging man grew more and more desperate.

"Sarah, Sarah, please," he continued to beg. "Wake up. Please. Don't do this. Don't do this, please.

Gordon rubbed at her body with his other hand, as if searching for any more injuries that couldn't be seen. There was only one prominent one, a small, dark hole in her forehead, of which only a tiny line of blood trickled away.

Logically, he knew that the odds of surviving such an injury were so low that she was already dead. An irrational and desperate part of him held on to the small, small, _small_ percentage that there was even a chance of living. Because Sarah needed to live. Because he needed her to live. After all these years, she was an anchor for him, always there, supporting in ways he needed to be supported.

From the days before the Night of Ice, the various crime waves, Joker, and whatever else the city threw at them. Hell, the disaster of Bane's invasion, that they had both come out alive from was still fresh in the memory. Not to mention the paralysis of his own daughter, and Sarah had been through his side throughout it all.

This couldn't be happening, not now, not when things were calming down with only an incident here and there.

_He_ couldn't lose her now.

"Sarah, it's gonna be alright," he said, his speech fast. "We're going to get you help. It's alright. Everything's going to be alright."

It was quiet now. There were no more sounds of fighting, of gunshots, or anything of the like. The commissioner's world was silent but for his breathing that was picking up the pace with each passing second.

"Please, Sarah. Please. Say something. Tell me to take it easy. Tell me...tell me it's going to be alright."

There was a hand on his shoulder, but it wasn't Sarah. Someone else's, someone not important right now. Someone spoke, he didn't hear. He couldn't hear.

Gordon's head bowed down over his wife, the horrible reality not leaving, and he finally, after all these years, he broke down.

* * *

The floor was cool, which felt rather nice. Of course, his armor restricted how much of it he felt, limiting it to his mouth and partial amounts of cheek.

Batman groaned before shifting his body. How long had he been out? What had knocked him out? The last thing he remembered was his whole world twisting and warping until something unrecognizable. His head was pounding, but it was slowly becoming less and less prominent.

His ears then picked up a sound, causing him to go still. What was that? His mind began to kick into higher gears as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. Soon, he realized he was hearing crying.

Slowly pushing himself up, his eyes flinching from the lighting in what he found to be a hallway. Some distance away, he saw a man in a coat kneeling on the floor, his arms wrapped around...what was he holding?

Embarrassingly, it took Batman a moment to remember fully what had led to his unconsciousness. Hush, he had hunted the Gordon's down, shooting Sarah Gordon before he had arrived on the scene. Their fight had ended in a standstill right before he saw the young girl. That's when everything went black.

Faster now, he recognized that it was Gordon kneeling on the floor and he was holding...oh God. His wife...she was…

The taste of bile soured his mouth. The weeping sounds Gordon made, they were too much. The police commission cradled his wife's lifeless body in his lap, holding onto her tightly.

He...he couldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. Even if he could comfort the man, Batman felt he clearly didn't belong here. Grief was powerful, whether you were its source, or its spectator. On principle, he wasn't that comforting of a person to being with, he could only imagine how much worse he could make this situation. His upbringing didn't allow him to know how to comfort another in these situations. If he was uncomfortable around a crying woman, then a crying man was bizarre.

Getting up onto his feet soundlessly, Batman faded away from the scene, gliding down the hallway until he found an intersecting corridor, taking it. He needed to get away from here. He needed to…

Regroup. He needed to regroup. The fighting here would be finished by now, with Hush making his exit shortly after getting the upper hand on him again. He had accomplished what he wanted by inflicting a terrible injury to Gordon—and through the older man, the vigilante.

He could already feel his failure haunting him. However, there was still too much to do to fully recognize it and deal with it. He needed to find Zatanna and figure out what his next move would be. Activating his comm link, he hailed, "Zatanna, come in."

Several seconds went by and there was no answer. He allowed this since she could have been tied up. While he was certain whatever Hush had done to make the GCPD go into a frenzy and attack itself was over, there could still be lingering effects that were in effect. Waiting a little longer, he then tried again. "Zatanna, come in."

Again, no response and he could feel his stomach tighten from the worry he was starting to feel. "Zana, answer me," he barked into the comm.

No answer.

Batman came to a stop in the hallway, his hand dropping to his side. He didn't want to believe it, refused to believe it. With all the guns and bullets around here, had one of those flying pieces of hot lead found his long-time friend? He didn't want to believe it, but he couldn't completely refute it. The chances she was lying on the floor somewhere, bleeding out just like Sarah Gordon had, was too great.

He needed to find her. He would not rest until he was certain she was alive and well and safe. Batman started moving again, a purpose in his steps. He was going to search this entire precinct. Though he prayed he wouldn't find the dark-haired woman mingled amongst the casualties, he was determined to find her regardless of condition.

* * *

The Batbunker had been sealed shut; the threat of nerve gas being in there weighed heavily on the minds of the Gotham vigilantes, and it was thought it would be safer to keep the door closed in the event that the poison was released.

No one argued against it.

Huntress took a count of all heads she could see. Her eyes quickly looked for the other Birds first, and all were accounted for. Black Canary was helping Katana with the cut in her back, the blonde woman doing her best to help bandage the wound. Katana was enduring the ministrations stoically, staring straight ahead with the blankest expression Huntress has ever seen on the Asian woman's face. Manhunter stood a ways away, keeping vigil in case anyone came upon them.

The Batclan was huddled together, the two young girls, Bluebird and Spoiler, keeping close to Nightwing who was doing his best to comfort them. Even from where she stood, Huntress could hear the hollowness in his voice. Nightwing himself was shaken by the recent near death experience, and was doing his best to try to appear like he had it together. He was doing a poor job of it from where she was standing.

The girls, though, seemed to be eating it up, but maybe desperation was helping the pair out. They needed something, anything really, to help them get past that deathtrap business, and who was she to question how they did it. After tonight, any way they could get their heads on straight would work until this only situation was resolved.

Nearby, the lady of the hour stood, Batgirl in all her dark glory was watching anyone she could, more than likely wondering what the hell had happened. Huntress had never been more appreciative that the girl had a talent for being either unreasonably early or fashionably late. Being late had been a great, fantastic thing this time around, and a lifesaver.

Huntress knew she was going to be giving someone a lot of gratitude before this night was over.

Oh, and before she forgot, there was also Red Robin's merry band of angsty teens to check on. The two who needed the most attention were the cyborg boy and the cloak-wearing goth girl. Okay, maybe calling her goth was generalizing but screw it, Huntress has nearly lost her life tonight so correctness was not high on her list of things to be worried about.

That orange-skinned girl with the almost red hair had pretty much picked up her sci-fi teammate and carried him out. He must have weighed a ton, but she had done it so effortlessly. Was she like one of the Wonder Woman or Superman types with the superstrength? No wonder she had been singled out to try and force the door open. They could definitely use someone like her, though the airheadedness was a drawback. What was her backstory again?

The cloak-girl—oh wait, she was called Raven, right?—looked much better now that she was out of the bunker. The pale skin was concerning, though, perhaps an aftereffect. Huntress didn't understand all of it, but this was a teen who used magic and ran into some anti-magic voodoo in there. She was sticking close to Wonder Girl over there—funnily enough, that was the blonde's name. Wonder Girl was trying to put on a brave front, keeping her teammate steady and all, but you could see the tension in her body. She was stressed as hell and would let it all out later.

That left Red Robin who was at the cyborg's side, asking question after question to his metal teammate, obviously trying to find out how long the big guy was going to be down. It was definitely something important to do, and a hell of a distraction that anyone would welcome. And it also gave the kid the option to ignore his green teammate who was pouting about his singed hair.

Yes, the kid that turned into animals was pouting about a little fire getting into his hair. Huntress knew a good stylist, and she'd give the kid his number if it would shut him up, but right now there were more important things to do.

"Who's for calling it early?"

It was up to her to break the state of shock they were all in, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last time she did such a thing.

"Didn't we all go through this shit so we could share information?" Manhunter asked. It was good of the staff-wielding vigilante to bring that up. It was the whole point of this meetup in the first place.

"Is anybody in the mood to do that right now?" Huntress replied simply, giving a quick lookover at everyone. Continuing, "After all that, I think it would be in everyone's best interest to go home and recover from this. We can meet back up tomorrow when our heads are on straight and actually do something with our show and tell."

"That's not a bad idea," Nightwing seconded, looking straight at her. "Unless there's someone who can, I don't think any of us would be able to concentrate. Plus, we need to take care of our wounds. It's better if we're all at a hundred percent than at half strength."

"And this place is compromised," Black Canary added unexpectedly, looking up from her care of Katana. "We need another locale, some place that these Black Glove guys won't be able to ambush us at."

Lookie, lookie, someone had been paying attention back there. That voice had dropped that name, the Black Glove. That was something to research, but for later. Much later. Hey, maybe they could have Oracle do that.

"Mind passing that along to Oracle?" she suggested to Nightwing. The young man nodded his head, so that took care of that. "Everyone, just...just call it a night. Do that thing you've been putting off or whatever relaxes you. But we get back together tomorrow, share what we know, then bring the hurt on these guys."

"I'll have Oracle find us a secure location and have her contact you," Nightwing stated.

Huntress nodded, but said no more. She was more interested in following her own instructions. A bubble bath sounded real nice right now. A tub of ice cream and some recorded Netflix ought to take care of the rest. Her dreams would help her come up with all sorts of things to do the people who nearly got them all killed.

And then tomorrow, they would pay.

* * *

Returning back to base, Hush sought out Hurt so that he could get this report over and done with. Over one shoulder, he carried the magician he had swiped back at the GCPD like she was a bag of potatoes. Finding him in the center of activity proved to be the way to go.

"Welcome back," Hurt greeted, barely giving him a glance. "How did your visit go? Fruitful?"

"More or less," the bandage-faced man answered as he came to a stop close to the other man. Behind him, only Ace dared to get as close as he had while Queen had slipped off some time before. "Predictably, he showed up. No worries, he's still alive."

"I should hope so. Otherwise, this exercise will be for nothing," Hurt replied before directing some of the Fiends who were busy unpacking several large cardboard boxes. Someone was in the middle of redecorating the place with the contents was a sign in and of itself.

"I wasn't able to kill the commissioner, but the damage to his force would be enough to keep Batman on his toes," Hush continued.

"Hmm. Well, the death of Gordon wasn't absolutely necessary. It would have been nice if you had followed through on your part." That was spoken with a cavalierness that put Hush on edge. It did not bode well, it never did. "I do see you brought something with you."

With a snort, Hush tossed the unconscious woman off of his shoulder, her body flopping down onto the large table where once upon a time, Hurt's gang of loser had once sat being briefed. The magician remained out of it, the effects of Ace's powers holding true.

"Consider it a consolation prize. The woman is one whom he keeps in confidence, and he will come to her side," Hush stated. "Her absence will stress him out, and given enough time, he'll walk into any trap to rescue her."

"Zatanna Zatara," the bad doctor mused, moving over to stand over the dark-haired beauty. "Yes, she may yet prove useful."

"Her magic operates through her voice," Hush pointed out. "Since this is more your area of expertise, I hope you'll be able to handle such a challenge."

"I hope that is not you voicing your lack of faith in me." Though his tone was warning, Hurt still added a chuckle. "Zatara will be handled. I'll make sure she doesn't come to until her accommodations are ready. In the meantime, do keep the children occupied. We are hours away from having everything set up for the finale and it wouldn't do for any of it to be ruined for our guests."

"Of course," Hush grunted, turning away. He soon spotted Ten walking by, King tucked under one arm while a thawing Jack was carried over the opposite shoulder. Ten was grumbling at having to lug their asses around, but at the very least he was showing his skills as hired muscle. That was going to need to be put to better use.

Pausing, he looked down at Ace who, surprise, surprise, was looking up at him. Her expression was blank as per usual, but he had a feeling that she wanted something. Though her face was a mask, her eyes said so much more than what any words could do.

"Good work," Hush said. "I'm...very proud. You handled yourself well tonight. Do get some rest for next time, you will really be put to the test."

There was not a nod or any sign that Ace gave to say that she understood, but Hush could only assume that she did. The young girl may not be as vocal or expressive as the others, but that did not mean she was stupid or deaf. Once you figured that much out, she became the easiest to deal with as she would follow anyone who gave her the slightest bit of attention.

Besides, she was much too important to this operation and had yet to play her role. That wouldn't be much longer, though. Soon enough, Bruce would be charging in here like the Dark Knight that he was.

So very predictable, it was disappointing. Yet, Hush had to count on it. Only by acting as predicted could the bandage-wearing man hope to gain what he wanted. The next twenty-four hours were going to be intense, that much was certain.

_Bruce, don't be a disappointment._

* * *

Gordon sat in a chair in the breakroom, elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped together. His posture was hunched over, revealing the toll that had been taken from him, a process that had gone over for years. He was quiet now, his eyes staring blankly into the space in front of him.

The commissioner had had to be dragged away from Sarah. The whole building was a crime scene, and the areas that had contained the majority of violence had been cordoned off. Fortunately, this small room had been untouched, and that was where he had been placed, a sobbing mess that still struggled to grasp his new reality.

The confirmation that Sarah was...gone had been hard to hear. Extremely hard, and nothing would have prepared him for such news, even when he had held her body close to him.

What was he going to do? How was he… What was he going to say? Barbara would need to be notified and...heh. Heh, heh, heh. Hadn't the two of them talked about this recently? It was the hardest part of the job, notifying the next of...kin.

Never in a million years would he have imagined having to do it for his own family.

Yes, the commissioner did know and understand the hazards of the job. There had been so many times before that both he and Sarah could have been killed and yet miraculously they had come through it all in one piece, maybe some scratches or bruises, but alive nonetheless.

But no more. There would be no more times when he would share war stories, and have some moments with his deceased wife, moments where they would engage in some dark humor because that was how they dealt with the dark areas of the job. Now, now it was time to do something about this. Her killer needed to be brought to justice. Only then would there be any closure.

Only then would Sarah be able to rest in peace.

It had been the umpteenth time a styrofoam cup full of water was offered to him, but this time he accepted it, ignoring who was offering it. He drained the cup, letting the cold liquid clear his mind from the heat of anger that was clouding it. Gordon needed to remain calm and think this through.

Placing the styrofoam cup on the table beside him, Gordon muttered a thanks, but barely moved other than that. His mind was racing, trying to recall every word the killer had said to him, and every detail of his appearance from his clothes to his stance, everything. He even thought about the confessed motivation.

Whether the killer knew it or not, he had severely limited the number of places he could hide himself based on that alone. Then there were the metahumans; you didn't find those at the local supermarket. This attack had taken some planning, or at the very least a lot of time to put together.

He just needed one more piece of information, a single clue that would complete this puzzle and lead him to that bastard.

Words were being said, and only now did the bereaved man begin picking up on them. "...think you should take off, and go home. You're not looking real well, com'mish. Let us handle things here and when you've got your head back, we can start tracking these animals down."

Bullock, Bullock was talking. The commissioner noted other nearby, even as he paid half of his attention to his right hand man. Renee Montoya was close, she being the one to offer him water recently. Maggie Sawyer was standing a respectable distance away, but remaining close by.

All of them were trustworthy. Sarah had trusted each and every one of them.

"I need you to do something for me," Gordon interrupted. Though his eyes were on Bullock, he was speaking to all three of them. "I need you to go through all the cases, dating about a month or so ago until now. I need you to find me something that stands out, and isn't normal."

"Com'mish? Jim? I mean, sure, but, why?" Bullock confusion was evident, but his loyalty prevented him from outright refusing.

"Are you going to try and find him?" That was Montoya, and she was quickly picking up on his train of thought.

"You mean that bastard? I mean, I'm all for that, but what makes you think we have anything on him? He came out of nowhere," Bullock protested.

"And people like him always leave something behind, some piece of evidence somewhere. We may have it, we just didn't know it was important then," Gordon cut in, stopping anymore protests. "Please, find me this evidence."

Silence was his immediate answer, but Montoya was the one to speak up first. "As long as you take care of yourself, Commissioner, and don't do anything stupid."

"Detective, I have done a lot of stupid things before, and this isn't one of them. I'll give you till the end of the day to find me something. I'm...I need to go home. Tell...Barbara. I… I'll be back later." It was becoming harder to speak again, and the thought of family, of his daughter, was making all those strong emotions return.

He needed to get it together and soon. If he wanted to catch that man, he needed to be on his game and not distracted.

Besides, notifying next of kin was the more difficult part of the job.


	26. Counting Losses

Counting Losses

After a night of...self-medicating, Dick had called out sick for work and made a beeline straight to Barbara's apartment. Though he was a man on a mission, his mind could not stop going into dark places.

Even now, random images of insert such and such vigilante in various states of injury or gruesome death would not go away. Spoiler and Bluebird tended to be the majority of these images, a grim reminder of the last time he had failed to protect one of his own. That the girls were still alive was a miracle he was grateful for, but Dick could not ignore how close it could have been to reality.

What was he going to do? He couldn't let Jason's death keep haunting him like this. It was too much of a distraction at the worst of times, when his own life was on the line. That he was protective of the girls would be an understatement; who knew what he would do if he lost another teammate? First Barbara, then Tim, then Jason; who would be next?

That could be saved for later. As the young adult trudged down the hallway of the apartment complex, the dark-haired male slipped out a key from his pocket. The paralyzed computer hacker had given him a copy of the apartment's key long ago so that he didn't have to always sneak in through the window. Not that that stopped him from doing it, but today Dick didn't feel in the mood to do that.

Reaching the door to the apartment, he slipped the key into the lock and turned, hearing the telltale sounds of the locking mechanism unlocking. Turning the doorknob, he pushed and into Barbara's abode he went.

It was in the doorway that he came to a sudden stop.

Dead ahead, he could see that Barbara had a guest, an elderly looking gentlemen from first appearances. However, Dick was not blind; he already recognized the man as Commissioner James Gordon, Barbara's father. In retrospect, perhaps he should have called first.

"Sorry," he said quickly, taking a step backwards. "I'll—"

"Dick?" That was Barbara, but something about her voice sounded funny. It was thicker than normal, which meant her father being here was not a random visit.

"Your friend has good timing," the commissioner remarked, also sounding funny. It wasn't as confident or down to earth as the young man was used to. In past incidences where he had met the older man, Commissioner Gordon was always professional and moderately loud. That was not the case as he sounded so...exhausted, like he had just done a triathlon without stopping for a break.

"I can...leave if you want," Dick offered, still feeling a little off his game. He had come here with a plan of what he wanted to do here in mind, but the very presence of Barbara's father had and continued to piss on it.

"Actually, I need to go. The office is calling," Gordon said as he stood up. Turning to his daughter, the commissioner added, "I'll be in touch later. If you need...anything, you know how to reach me."

Instead of a verbal response, the wheelchair bound woman only nodded. Again, that was out of character, which put the dark-haired man further on edge. He tensed further as the older, mustached man passed by him, giving him this look that conveyed a message that just went over the younger man's head.

"Can you keep an eye on her for me? I would really appreciate it," the commissioner requested, doing his best to give a disarming smile.

Dick nodded in the affirmative and waited for the highest ranking law officer in the city to leave before turning to his proverbial woman in the chair. "Did I interrupt something?"

When Barbara didn't immediately respond, that gave him all the answer he needed. "I—"

"Dick, stay," the paraplegic woman stated.

Nodding, again, Dick trekked further into the apartment, moving to his friend's side. Once he was close enough, he could see how red her eyes were, and they weren't red because she was under the influence of anything. Something _big_ had happened.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

After a few moments of silence, Barbara finally responded, "Sarah's dead."

Sarah...who...oh. Oh, her stepmother. Okay, this wasn't just anybody in her life. This was someone who was close to her father which...how was that man holding it together—if he even was?

"How did it happen?"

Barbara sniffed, wiping at her nose. As soon as she did that, she was grabbing the wheels on her chair and pushing herself in the direction of her workstation, hidden in its alcove. "While you guys were trapped, there was an attack on GCPD HQ. Sarah was...shot and she...she's gone. I know my dad is being torn up about it, but he's always done this, tried to put up a strong front. I know I need to be with him, but I also know that the fastest way to help is to catch the son of a bitch who killed her."

"Who was it?" Understanding the severity of the situation, Dick was getting into business mode.

"It was the same people Batman fought in the casino. Those teenagers with the powers, and that man who wears bandages, matches the description Tim gave me." It didn't take long for Barbara to bring up images of the attack at HQ, and she had a still frame of the man in question. He had never seen this guy before, and could only assume he was new.

"So that casino brawl, the assassins, last night, everything's connected," Dick mused. "What are the odds that the Birds have some intel that's also connected? Maybe they found something that made whoever's responsible ansty enough to make that attempt last night. What can you find about a group called the Black Glove? The person who spoke to us last night dropped that name, and gambling might be involved with it."

Barbara was already opening up another window, typing in the words Black Glove into it. "I'll see what I can find." She sniffed again and wiped at her nose. "So what do you think they're after? What's so important that they're targeting everyone?"

Dick gave it a second's thought. "There's really only one thing I can think of. The voice we heard mentioned that he wanted us out of the way. I got a feeling that the real target has got to be Batman. They want him, but why, I don't know."

Barbara's eyes narrowed with determination as she got herself situated at her station. "Then I guess we're going to have to crash their party and show them what they're really up against."

From her tone of voice, Dick knew this was personal. Had she the use of her legs, he knew she'd be going out there herself, tracking the people responsible for her stepmother's death. Because she didn't, she was stuck here which made him feel a little relieved. It was one less thing to worry about, and the young woman would be channeling her energies in a more constructive way.

That wouldn't mean he wouldn't land a punch to the face for her.

* * *

The black car slowed to a stop on the turnstile. The canopy slid open and Batman hauled himself out of the cockpit. The canopy slid shut behind him, the turnstile spinning the car around the moment he stepped off of it.

All of this Batman ignored. He hadn't been able to find Zatanna anywhere and she hadn't responded to his multiple hails. His stomach was in knots, twisted with worry. On the one hand, she wasn't dead; on the other, she had vanished into thin air without so much as a notice.

He didn't want to think of what that meant, but his brain had no problem conjuring up a thousand different scenarios.

However, it wasn't as if he didn't have options. The comm link she had had a tracer embedded inside of it. With his computer, he would trace its location and hopefully find her. Marching up to the super computer, he called out, "Computer: activate GPS tracker on all comm link devices."

Immediately, the dark screen light up with life, performing his command. Seconds crawled by like separate eternities, right up until a map of Gotham appeared on screen, multiple red dots covering it. Expanding the map to cover the several miles outside of the city limits, he began seeking out each dot. He quickly identified his own device, the one red dot outside of the city limits right where the manor was located. That was the only one presently outside of the city.

Which returned him to the ones inside the city limits. Strangely enough, there was a large cluster of red dots, which caused him to frown. The Birds of Prey and Batclan were meeting in the Bowery, more specifically where the bunker was located. Considering what was going on recently, he couldn't blame them for meeting up. It seemed the Network was still in full swing.

There was one red dot separate from the cluster, but that one belonged to Oracle. His frown deepened. There should have been more red dots, like Batgirl's. That is unless she was with the Network. Zooming in on the cluster, he input a command to see just who was present at the Network meeting.

A list of code names appeared immediately. There were all the Birds, the Batclan...and Batgirl. So she was meeting with them.

But that still left Zatanna's and her's was nowhere to be found. That did nothing for his panicking mind. Where the hell was she? She should have been picked up by the search. Why wasn't she picking up?

Zana had told him of her occasional trips to some mystical plane. Usually she was the one going to it, but there had been one occasion where she had been pulled over. Had that happened? That would explain her absence on the digital map. While he didn't like that prospect, he knew she could handle herself in that sort of situation.

The other one was that she had been captured and taken somewhere the GPS tracker didn't work. That he didn't like. That meant he couldn't just go to her and get her out of there; that she was beyond his reach. That he couldn't help.

No, no, what was he thinking? Just because he couldn't locate her on the map didn't mean he couldn't find her. It was just like when Black Mask used a communication jammer at the Gotham Cathedral. Though the intended use was to block out communication, as well as protect his own private line, it basically singled out his location. The same principle could apply here. He just needed to find locations that weren't transmitting signals and he'd have a list of probable locations. And in this day and age, those would be very few and far in-between.

That would be one avenue of investigation. He had another he could use as well. Inputting the command for the supercomputer to do a regional search of dead spot communication areas, the Dark Knight then turned away and began removing his armor. The stand that held the armor was close by and he placed piece after piece of it on it.

Soon he was dressed only in undershirt and boxers. Passing through the cold cave, he collected a robe on his way to the stairs, pulling it on as he climbed them. Reaching the top, he opened the entrance to the study and slipped through.

With a single-mindedness, he stalked through his house until he reached his father's study. Seated at the desk was Corrigan, who was rifling through some documents. Upon his entrance, the red-haired man glanced up at him before returning his attention to the papers.

"Have you found anything?" Bruce asked him as he shut the door behind him.

"A few things," Corrigan answered him without looking up. He paused then before actually tiling his head up. "Is Zatanna not here?"

"She's not."

"Very well. I've been looking into your city since I arrived. Admittedly much of what I was originally looking into encompassed your family, but I have noticed a few things."

"Such as?"

Corrigan shifted himself in the chair to get comfortable, even as Bruce took a seat in one of the others. "Cities are no strangers to graffiti. You know this; I know this. However, I've been noticing a specific set recently. I've never seen or heard of it prior to coming to Gotham, yet I've seen it in rather odd places, so I was beginning to wonder if it had any significance. What do you know of…"

Though Corrigan continued to speak, Bruce couldn't hear a word he said. That was largely in thanks to a massive headache that overwhelmed him. Immediately he grimaced, raising a hand up to rest his head against.

"Are you okay?" the supernatural detective asked him.

"I'm fine," he answered blandly. "Just a headache. It's been a long night."

Corrigan nodded his acceptance. "Anyways, what can you tell me about—"

The headache pulsed sharply, though Bruce did his best not to let it show on his face. God, what was he doing? Night was really starting to catch up to him. Jim Gordon's wife was dead, Zatanna was captured and/or missing, and with his luck it could only be by his most vengeful enemy. His life was in shambles and the world was crumbling all around him. Why was he doing this still? All it ever brought was pain and misery to those around him, nevermind himself. He should just…

He should just give it up.

_...don't…_

Startled, Bruce jumped in his seat, which caused Corrigan to stop talking. Had he been talking this entire time? Nevermind. The billionaire shook himself. He was really starting to lose…

_...don't…_

There it was again. If he wasn't mistaken. It was a voice. And it was saying something. Something more. Bruce frowned as he tried to listen.

_...don't...afraid…_

There was something comforting about the voice, like he had heard it before and it brought instant comfort. He wasn't sure why. The words "don't afraid" didn't make sense, but whatever thoughts he had prior to them had receded, along with the blinding headache.

"Is something wrong?" Corrigan inquired then, looking at him strangely.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. Then he sighed. This detective was trying to help him. Perhaps he might as well use him as best he could. "Zatanna is missing," he confessed, seeing Corrigan frown. "I'm not sure where she went to, but I can only presume it wasn't on her own accord."

"You believe the enemy that is after you may be responsible."

"Yes, and knowing my luck that is the exact reason. I'll need your help finding her."

"Yes, of course. How would you like to proceed?"

* * *

Oh God, did she have a headache. It started the moment she began coming to. It was pounding and throbbing and just wouldn't go away. What she wouldn't give for some Tylenol.

Zatanna made to groan, but found it came out muffled. That's when she became aware of something shoved into her mouth, a strap pressed against her cheeks. Snapping her eyes open, she threw her head up, feeling the gag firmly in place. Biting down, she realized she had a ball gag in her mouth.

She was unable to move her arms, the appendages being tied to the sides of the chair she was sitting in. Ugh, she had been caught...again. Restrained and gagged, there was no way she was going to be able to magick her way out of this.

Alright, she needed to calm down. There was no point in getting worked up so soon. Moving her head, she looked at her surroundings, finding herself in what looked like a jail cell. The walls were made of cement, grimy with what appeared to be years of disuse, or just plain old poor maintenance. There were various cracks here and there, though that wasn't unusual with old cement.

In front of her was an iron gate that raised from floor to ceiling. Yeah, those were definitely prison bars. Turning her head to one side, she tried to look behind her, her head moving from one side to the other. All she was able to catch was a longboard, which must have been the bed that belonged here. Two rusted iron chains were supposed to keep it supported in the air, but one of them had broken who knows when, which left one end of the board on the floor, the other hanging in the air. Tucked in a corner was a toilet, though the basin top and the seat had been removed, its porcelain surface stained with...well, she didn't really want to know what.

Alright, now that she knew the layout, now she needed to figure out what she was sitting in and what tied her down to it. Before she could do so, there was a loud groaning sound, rusty metal hinges protesting being turned. Looking to the bars, she stared at them, waiting as she heard footsteps growing louder and louder as they approached.

And then he appeared, the man she saw at the police station. Bruce had called him Hush and he looked every bit like he did in that footage in the Batcomputer. The trench coat was the same; the bandages on his face was the same; even the arrogant expression he had matched with what she knew about him.

"I see you're awake, whore," he greeted her.

Zatanna glared daggers at the man. Had she not been gagged, she would have had a few choice words for this prick.

Hush reveled in the look she shot at him. "You know, you only have yourself to blame. You should have chosen your friends better. But then, I imagine you're one of those little people that only feels fulfillment riding the coattails of giants.

"Not that Batman is a giant, mind you. He's only a stepping stone in all of this and I'll make sure he knows his place when this is all finished."

Yeah, right. Zatanna knew this guy was trying to play games with her. Everything he had ever done was to get at Bruce; the amount of effort and energy he had put into torturing her friend was more than overcoming a "stepping stone" as he put it.

It seemed, however, the bandaged man had enough with taunting her, at least at the distance they were at. Grabbing onto the bars, one of his hands disappeared behind a metal plate, a clicking sound being made. That had to be where the lock was and Hush must have turned the key that was still in the keyhole. As if to confirm, Hush slid the bars to a side, allowing himself to enter the cell.

Approaching her in two long strides, he kneeled down in front of her. "I must admit though, a one-way conversation is only entertaining for so long." Reaching to her head, his hands moved behind her and began undoing the ball gag. Zatanna couldn't help the incredulity at the action. Was he actually going to remove the one thing keeping her from wrecking his shit?

The ball gag went slack against her face then, confirming what she thought. The ball was removed from her mouth and the dark-haired woman couldn't help the spell that spilled out of her mouth. "Sgnidnib niartser mih!"

Seconds passed before Zatanna realized nothing happened. "Sgnidnib niartser mih!" she repeated again, once more receiving nothing.

"Ezeerf mih," she tried, again having nothing happen.

"You know, I always wondered what it would be like to use magic," Hush spoke then, a knowing look on his face. "Though if speaking the spells like you do is what must be done, then I'm grateful I laid that childish notice to bed long ago."

Zatanna scowled at him. "What did you do?"

"I? Nothing. I have no magical abilities like you do, whore. However, if you believe magic was only on your side, then you're sadly mistaken. I too have made an acquaintance with a man well versed in your field. If you would only look at the walls."

Reluctantly, the magician turned her attention to the walls, seeing the same old cracked and grimy surface. However, after a few seconds, there was a shiny sheen that appeared, almost as if a light had hit it at the right angle. Frowning, she narrowed her eyes and saw it again, realizing there was a damn near invisible symbol on the wall. And there was another and another.

Oh great, the entire cell was covered in the near-invisible symbols.

"This entire room was made with the sole purpose of keeping you impotent," Hush told her then, no small amount of glee in his tone. "And you can bet that you're going to be spending a lot of time here."

"So you just came here to rub that in my face?" Zatanna asked him, raising an eyebrow at him. "Boy, you really are petty."

Hush lost a little of his good humor at that remark. "Be careful with what you say, whore. I'm the one in control and believe me, that will not be changing."

"Consider me informed. Now is there some point you want to make, or is that it?"

The corner of the man's mouth twitched up. "Stubborn—I can see why that rich fool took an interest in you. You're just like him when we were little."

He was changing the subject again. Zatanna kept a blank look on her face. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of his words getting to her, not that they were.

"And I know you've taken your interest in him further," he continued, raising a hand up to her face, attempting to stroke her cheek with the backside of his knuckles. In return, the dark-haired woman jerked her head away from his touch, causing his hand to still.

"Unfortunately for you, I believe your...love...such as it is, is only one sided," he mused.

"And what makes you think that?" she countered.

"Because Batman is too much like myself. We have love for one thing and one thing only. I love only the game that determines my superiority over him and he only for this rotting corpse of a city."

"You're wrong about him," she defended.

"Of course you would say that. Your head is still filled with fanciful notions of love and flowers and happiness. Batman is anything but. He can't love you and he never will, no matter how hard you wish it not to be." Hush began standing up, looming over her as he leaned his face closer to hers. "As long as you two are alive, you'll never be his one true love. Never. The city is all he cares about, it's the only thing he's ever returned to faithfully. Gotham is his one true love; how do you ever expect to compete with her?"

A lot of emotions were swirling inside of Zatanna. As much as she didn't like to admit it, Hush did have a point. Whatever energies Bruce had, he gave it freely and without hesitation to the salvation of Gotham. It was an underlying reason to their mutual separation so long ago. And there was a tiny part of her that hurt from that.

However, she knew Bruce was capable of more, which was the part that hurt worse than that knowledge. She had seen it with her own eyes, especially when it came to his daughter, Cassandra. His protectiveness of her following his trip to the future and the support he was willing to give her to stand on her own two feet was evidence of this. Gotham may come first, but it wasn't the only thing in his life.

"I don't," she replied succinctly, which caused a slight frown to appear on Hush's face. "And I'm honestly not going to try. But if you think Batman is capable of only one thing, then you are sorely mistaken."

"I find that hard to believe," he grunted back.

"That's because you're projecting yourself onto him, which is pretty sad if you ask me. I've known him for a long time, so I know what he's capable of."

"And I've known him longer," Hush countered. "Whatever he's shown you was only an act; it's what he wanted to show you. You don't know the real him, but I know it all too well. He's not above using those around him to get what he wants." His smirk grew wider. "And I don't have to think too hard to know what he wanted out of you. Even I must admit you're quite captivating—dare I say beautiful? You're just like the women I would steal from him at the society balls and galas we attended."

"You wouldn't ever steal me," she shot back.

"Of course, I would. And you know why?" He leaned his face closer to hers again. "Because he doesn't care about—"

Before he could finish, Zatanna spat on his face, cutting him off. Whatever gloating look was on his face vanished. Slowly, he pulled backwards, raising a hand up to wipe away the spit. Holding his hand out, he glanced to his gloved fingers, observing the saliva before he looked back at her.

Then he pulled that same hand back and slapped her hard across the face. Zatanna's head snapped to a side as her cheek burned read from the blow. "You little bitch," he snarled at her.

Zatanna kept herself leaning away from him, her head still turned. That didn't stop her from talking though. "You want to know what I think?" She then began to turn to look right at him. "I think you're jealous of him."

Hush snorted. "Me? Jealous? I think not."

"That so? Then why were your poaching his dates? Why did you try and take his family business? His home? I'll tell you why and it's not because you want to hurt him, or whatever it is you claim to be doing. It's because you want to _be _him. He had the life you always wanted. You even tried to copy him word for word, look for look, and action for action."

"So you want to psychoanalyze me? Do go on, I'm dying to see what you come up with."

Zatanna ignored the childish goad. "He told me all about you, you know. How you were desperate to join your companies together; how you ended up ruining another person's life; how you refused to take the blame and put it squarely on him and you've been doing it ever since. You just couldn't stand seeing him be more successful, being more beloved than you, so you had to do whatever it took to tear him down." This time Zatanna leaned towards Hush's face. "Sound about right?"

Hush was glaring at her now. Of course she was right, but he wouldn't ever admit to it. "Cute, but you're wrong, bitch." See what she meant?

"He gets a friend that knows magic; you get a friend that knows magic," she countered. "He begins befriending the city's vigilantes; you find your own group of misfit assassins. Is any of this ringing a bell, or are you still in denial?"

Then she rolled her eyes. "Oh wait, I forgot, you aren't the mastermind here. You're just another puppet like all of the—"

Again, Hush struck her, his palm smacking her across the face. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?" she continued snidely.

Hush was openly scowling at her. "If you think I'm just a pawn, you are sorely mistaken. When all of this is said and done, it will be my hand that strikes down your precious Batman. How else do you think he's been hurt so badly as he has? It wasn't the Black Glove, it was me. I'm the one responsible." He drew closer to her again. "And I promise you, once this Danse Macabre is finished, I will tear Gotham down, wiping it from the face of the Earth, effectively destroying whatever legacy that pompous fool has made. It will be me pissing on his grave."

Zatanna gave a small, condescending smile at him. It spoke volumes louder than anything she could have said. Still, she couldn't help but say, "You better go run to your little master now. I'm sure he wouldn't want you revealing everything in some asinine villain monologue."

His scowl deepened. "Once I'm done with Wayne, I promise you, you'll be next, and you won't like what I do to you."

Zatanna dropped her smile. "And you better have every single one of your friends with you too. Once I get out of this cell, I don't care what Batman says, I'm going to send you to a hell worse than anything you can ever imagine."

* * *

The atmosphere was somber and quiet. Talia leaned back in her chair, her eyes glazed over. She was oblivious to her office surroundings.

She had just ended a rather informational phone call from one of her underlings, though it wasn't as informative as she would have liked. At a minimum, she at least had a name as to who was tormenting her Beloved.

They were called the Black Glove. A rather simple name with twisted connotations. Unfortunately, that was one of very few facts that had been gathered by her assassins, which was rather disappointing.

It seemed someone had been taking pointers from her father in how to vanish into the shadows. Much like his Demon's Fang, this Black Glove lived solely through hushed whispers and rumors. Their function was unknown, their mission even more mysterious.

They seemed to pop up in random destinations all over the globe. One thing was for certain that they were active, putting some plan into action in cities like Paris and Istanbul, ones that ran from mere days to weeks, then vanished just as quickly as they appeared. They appeared to not have any known base of operations. If they had, the Order of Assassins would be paying them a visit this very moment.

What that told Talia was that they were nomadic. They were not fixated on one locale, allowing them to move at will. It also indicated they were quite adaptable, or they knew how to twist and transform their surroundings into what they required.

And it seemed this Black Glove had a vested interest in Gotham. That was the most concerning part from her underling's report. It was clear this group had designs on the city, though their exact goal was, once again, unknown. If it wasn't for Talia's appreciation of secrecy, she would have ordered her underling to repent for their failure of a report. The shame of not finishing their assignment would have to suffice for now.

However, of what she learned, Talia had a sneaking suspicion that she knew where the Black Glove was now. They were closer than they would like anyone to know. If they knew someone of her background and intuition was within this gloomy city, she was certain they would have chosen another city for their ministrations.

Though the group's purpose was still a mystery, her assassins had discovered some things. For instance, whatever city this group resided in, regardless of length of time, massive amounts of money would be exchanged. A pattern had formed between a very select group of people, their membership changing from time to time, but it always involved six people. Five of these people were spotted, or had travel arrangements to the cities at the same time the Black Glove was active in them. They spent ungodly amounts of money, then just as abruptly left. The number five was always involved, its roster of participants changing minimally with each city.

Which left the sixth person, one that participated in every plot. Talia had no clue as to this person's identity; in fact, her assassins were entirely convinced such a person existed. However, she could read between the lines. Whomever the sixth person was, they were heavily involved in the Black Glove, their only proof of existence was the account they used to collect the proceeds their plots created.

Perhaps by coincidence, at the time the Black Glove was in a city, a life was ruined. It was the best way Talia could describe it. It mattered not the person's lot in life, be they powerful or influential, or merely a peasant in the streets. While suicide was not that uncommon of an act, the timing of these deaths were suspicious. In fact, the last city the Black Glove had been found in, a cardinal had flung himself to his death from his church's parapet.

A more in depth look into the cardinal's last days had revealed a man acting sporadic and paranoid, traits the man was not known for. He was clearly tormented by something.

Which was all too familiar to Talia. The cardinal's behavior was not unlike the behavior of her Beloved the last couple of weeks. The coordinated attack on his life, be it his former employee and his company being taken from him, was riling the man up. She had it on good authority his exchanges between him and the other vigilante element in the city was strained. There had been some incident with a man known as King Kraken and a girl with super-human strength.

Taking all of this together and Talia was certain the Black Glove was in Gotham and they had their attention fixed on her Beloved. Further proof of this was the sudden travel plans of five wealthy men to the city, each one made mere days ago.

Following the flimsy pattern created by her underlings and Talia could just feel something was afoot. In fact, she was certain the Black Glove was on the verge of making their final push.

Talia instinctively clenched her hands into fight fists. Though she had faith that her Beloved could weather whatever dark plots were against him, that did not mean she did not worry for him. He had just recovered from the war with Bane. As powerful as he presented himself, cracks had appeared in his facade.

He needed help regardless of his belief that he did not. Talia was going to be the one to give it to him. No one messed with what rightly belonged to her and lived. Though this Black Glove moved about the world in shadow, they were not the only monsters found there. Her father was responsible for those shadows, their caretaker and originator. He had forgotten more about the art of secrecy than they could ever help to learn, aspects of which he had passed along to her, his daughter.

The Black Glove would get a lesson in not crossing the Daughter of the Demon. They may revel in darkness, but Talia would ensure that is where they would stay for eternity. Gotham was their last stop.


	27. Raising the Stakes

Raising the Stakes

Wheels crunched on cracked asphalt and gravel. Long, black limousines came to a stop in front of the large maw that was the entrance to the upcoming, depraved events to come.

Dressed in suits, though a few hairstyles clashed violently with the formal wear, various Fiends stood at the ready, opening the vehicles doors to allow the passengers to exit. From one emerged a squat man in a military uniform, various medals pinned to his chest. Much of his face was covered with a black domino mask, a bushy mustache carefully groomed underneath it. Behind him, a thin, curvy woman in a tight-fitting blue dress followed after him.

From another vehicle came others, from a man wearing a business suit and cowboy hat ensemble and a thick cigar jutting out of his mouth, to another in a Catholic priest getup. They were followed by another man who wore the robes of a Middle Eastern sheik, and nearby was another, thin man in a business suit and tie. Like the military gentleman, they too wore domino masks around their eyes.

Some had brought guests, primarily females of differing ages, each dressed as extravagantly as the last. The Fiends escorted them into the complex before them and the party of individuals followed. They were led into a large, cavernous room where a large, round table was set up. A dark red table tablecloth covered the large surface, and dinner plates with napkins and various silverware were set up at each available seat. The expectation of a fine and decadent meal was promised by the very sight.

In the center of the table laid a roulette wheel, black and red clashing with one another in a repeated pattern. It was there for decorative purposes, but could easily be used for its intended purpose if desired.

Beside it all stood Hurt, decked out in the stolen masquerade costume that he had appropriated from Wayne Manor. "Gentlemen, our fine high rollers. Once every year, the Black Glove invites _you_, some of the richest people in the world, to play a game with human lives. It's a tradition going _way_ back, and this year we can promise you all something rather _special_. Take your seats, and make yourselves comfortable. We have quite the night planned for you all, and the Black Glove always delivers."

"This isn't going to be a fake out? You will be providing us Batman?" the thin businessman inquired, even as he accepted an offered seat.

"Only the best," Hurt promised. "The last two weeks have been eventful, but we are coming to the grand climax." Gesturing with an arm to the other remaining seats, he bid the others to take them. "Tonight, you will all be spectators to the grandest event the Black Glove has ever produced. Before we are through, you will all see the downfall of one of the world's most noble souls, and we won't stop until we achieve the one, singular goal.

"The utter destruction of Batman in body, mind, and soul."

"I hope this isn't another fake out," the masked priest commented as he held a hand out to receive a menu that was provided towards him.

The sheik nodded in agreement. "You have promised the Batman for years."

"And this time, we made sure he is available," Hurt chuckled. "He will arrive within the hour, long enough for us to serve you your meals for the night." Snapping his fingers, he nonverbally called for several Fiends to approach with wine bottles in hand. Everyone would get a glass.

Moving around the table, Hurt allowed his cape to drift behind him melodramatically. Removing a small device from his pocket, he aimed it up at a collection of screens that hung up high into the air. With a press of a button, various images filtered onto the screens.

"All the ingredients are here for a spectacular and historic evening." To one monitor, he gestured to the images of Fiends patrolling hallways painted in graffiti. "The house of horrors…" To another, the image of a dark-haired woman in a stage magician's costume laid strapped down and restrained, a ball gag in her mouth. "...the damsel in distress…" Turning to the table, he tossed a small, white ball into the roulette wheel, the orb bouncing about until it landed in the black 29 space. "...the hurting but undefeated hero…" Plucking a glass of wine, he held up for all to see, "...and his terrible nemesis. His ultimate foe. Is _anyone_ willing to bet on the triumph of good over evil? Place your bets gentlemen."

As his guests were making themselves comfortable, Hurt ventured away, moving off to a side where skulking in the shadows was his bandage-faced accomplice. Raising a hand up, he placed it on Hush's shoulder and gave a simple instruction.

"Make the call. It's time to lure in our guest of honor."

Hush nodded, giving a grunt. Pulling away, the former CEO vanished from sight into the shadows, leaving Hurt to return to his party and ensure they were entertained until the show began.

* * *

The phone ring was startling. Jolting in his seat, Bruce looked to the bulky phone stand that sat on his father's desk. It was a relic from decades ago, one of the first phones with a dial pad verses the even older rotary dial. There was even a cord attaching the phone to the stand. Perhaps if he used this office more, he would've updated it to a cordless one.

Glancing to Corrigan, who stared blankly at him, Bruce then reached for the phone and picked it up, placing the receiver by his ear. "Wayne Manor," he greeted curiously.

"_How good of you to pick up, Brucie."_

Immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck stiffened even as a scowl appeared on his face. "Tommy," he growled back dangerously.

"_How are you doing? Still in one piece, I hope. I know Ace was doing her best to be gentle, but I can only imagine what it was like to have her destroy your mind. Professional curiosity, how was that by the way?"_

"What do you want?" Bruce barked as he stood up from his chair, pressing a hand onto the desk as he leaned over it.

"_Interesting. You're moodier than usual. Very well, let's get on to my purpose for calling you._

"_I have in my possession someone you care very much for. A beautiful young woman with a _magical _tongue. I can only imagine what she's done to you with that mouth, but I expect—_"

"Enough," he interrupted. "What have you done with her?"

"_Nothing, old buddy, old pal—yet. And it will remain that way if you follow my instructions to the letter. I have your precious whore at the abandoned Stonegate Prison. If you want to see her in one piece, come alone. You can bring all of your gadgets, toys—hell, even that suit of armor if you like. I want you to bring your very best, so when you're lying on the ground at my feet, you'll know that your every effort was futile."_

There was a pause. _"Oh, and you'll want to get here very quickly. I may grow bored if you take too long and I would just have to find something to occupy my time. Your lady friend may be able to help in that department." _There was the sound of hot breath breathing onto the phone receiver. _"She's very beautiful you know. I might not be able to help myself."_

That was a goad. Though Bruce had no delusion that Hush would hurt Zatanna just to get at him, he doubted he was lower himself to fall victim to his own baser instincts. The man quoted Aristotle after all.

So instead of responding, Bruce hung up the phone. He didn't slam it down so much as gentle placed it on the stand. "Who was that?" Corrigan questioned him.

"Hush has Zatanna," the billionaire informed him before he spun around on his heels and began storming towards the door. "I'm going after them."

"You know this is a trap."

Of course he did, but he couldn't just leave Zatanna in that madman's hands. "I don't have a choice," he said over his shoulder, even as he opened the door.

This allowed him to see Corrigan standing up from his father's desk and follow behind him. "Tell me where you're going. Perhaps there's a way to turn this to your advantage."

As Bruce entered the hallway, he rather liked the way the red-haired man framed his response. "He told me to go to Stonegate," he informed the man.

There was a pregnant pause, then, "As in Stonegate Prison?"

"That's right."

That's when he felt a hand grab onto his shoulder, pulling on it to stop him. Turning around, Bruce found Corrigan giving him a hard look. "You can't go there alone," he told the dark-haired man. "I know Stonegate and that is not a place one treads lightly."

A former prison left as a rotting wound on the outskirts of the city? Of course he wasn't going to act brashly. "Noted," he responded dryly.

"I don't believe I'm explaining myself correctly. In the magical plane, Stonegate is a nexus for supernatural activity. That makes it an excellent location for a sorcerer or magi to conjure spells. Undoubtedly, this must be where the mastermind pulling Hush's strings will be at."

"Explain yourself. What do you mean by nexus?"

"A nexus is a gathering of mystical energies. If someone sensitive to its power accessed it, they could wield those same powers, for better or for worse. You've already suggested this Hush has been resurrected; the spells needed to maintain his existence would be made easier if his master had access to the nexus there."

So, not only would he have to deal with Hush, but he would have to go head to head with a magic user. That was fine by him. Then Corrigan said something that stopped him in his tracks once again.

"I will go with you."

That caused Bruce to raise an eyebrow. "No, out of the question. Hush may be a psychopath, but he isn't stupid. If I bring someone else with me, he will hurt Zatanna and I won't risk that. Not after what he did at the GCPD."

"You can't overcome magic either," Corrigan pointed out. "I know a few things that can render their advantage useless. You have to trust me."

That was a good point, admittedly. However, he was also right in that Hush would harm Zana if his instructions weren't followed to the letter. They were going to have to play this smart; undoubtedly Hush would be expecting him to bring someone along, if not to sneak them in while he provided a distraction.

Unless in spite of whatever preparations Hush and his boss took, they could sneak Corrigan in without their knowing. That was going to have to take someone with stealth skills as good as him. There was only one person he could think of who could do it.

"Alright," he acquiesced. "I need to make a call, though. There's someone else I believe that can help us out."

* * *

Oracle was good. Each of them had received a notification to be ready in an hour and that a location would be given at that time. The rooftop of the Gotham Cathedral had been selected, a random place to be sure, but one that afford a good vantage and made it difficult for anyone trying to sneak up on them. The fact that it has also been the site where a mob war between Harvey Two-Face and Black Mask had ended was conveniently ignored.

Nightwing took count of all who showed up. The Birds were in force, even Katana with her still healing back. None of these ladies were in the mood to let this matter settle without any of them having the final say so. There were the other two members of the Batclan, both girls looking more relaxed compared to the night before and both eager to get some payback. Lastly, and surprisingly, Red Robin was the only other person here. He had left the rest of his group behind, unwilling to put them all in another risky situation. What their current status was, he didn't know and his former partner wasn't sharing.

It was a bit of a shame; he had been looking forward to seeing Starfire again.

"Alright, Oracle, we're all here. It's show and tell time," he said aloud, convening the gather and getting it all underway.

"Who wants to go first?" Black Canary spoke aloud, looking at those assembled. It seemed like someone wanted this show to get on the road and was willing to ignore how fewer of them there were tonight.

Deciding to take the initiative, Nightwing stood up straight, pulled back his shoulders, and reported, "You've all probably heard by now, but while we were all trapped in the bunker, the GCPD was attacked at about the same time."

"Again?" Huntress scoffed.

"Thing is, those guys, the Royal Flush Gang, were the attackers," Nightwing continued, ignoring Huntress' commentary. "Just in case, those were the same ones that Batman fought at that casino. Another thing, there was a man wearing bandages around his head who was also there."

"Just like at the casino," Red Robin stated.

"Let me guess, another assassin," Manhunter grumbled. "I am getting so sick of these hired killers, I swear to God."

"So far, there's been no positive ID on him, so that can't be confirmed," the young adult replied. "Oracle's still trying to check on him, but what we need to focus on is that he targeted the commissioner specifically. From the footage Oracle got from the GCPD, that man made a beeline for the commissioner's office."

"To kill him," Black Canary finished grimly.

"All of his allies were attacked last night," Katana stated, speaking up for the first time. "First, we were incapacitated, and then the commissioner is attacked. It is coordinated."

No one needed to ask who "his" was. They all knew, and the frowns were obvious.

"So...they attacked us to get to Batman?" Bluebird half-asked, half suggested.

"_That's what it appears to be, meaning whatever's going down hasn't yet._" Ah, and there she was. Nightwing was beginning to wonder when Oracle was going to speak up. Perhaps her stepmother's death was getting to her. "_In the meantime, I have been looking into the name last night's hacker of the week dropped, the Black Glove. I'm sorry to say, I couldn't find much."_

"Define much," Manhunter pressed, nearly growling out some of her frustration. Nightwing couldn't blame her because he wanted a bit more than "not finding much" after these people tried to kill them.

"_All I could find were rumors and hearsay about it. The sum of it is that the Black Glove is a criminal cabal with a very far reach. It's said that some of the wealthiest people in the world are involved but there's nothing definitive. They're very good at covering their tracks, but one common theme is that wherever it is said they were, death follows._

"_One rumor claims that once a year, the Black Glove gathers together for the sole purpose of ruining a single person's life for the sole purpose of placing bets on whether the poor victim is able to beat the odds or not, which fits in with some of the lingo that was said, like wagers and high rollers. That's the only reason I put any stock in that._"

"Great, some other shadowy group who doesn't like to advertise themselves and thus can't be looked up on Google. Perfect. Like we don't get enough of those already," Huntress half-grumbled, half complained.

The sentiments were shared, Nightwing assumed at least. They only had just gotten through with the Demon's Fang stuff a while back; they did not need another group who did the same thing.

"_On a more positive note, I've finished analyzing the dirt Batgirl gave me._"

"Alright, so where is it that Mr. March spends his free time?" Huntress asked, arms crossed.

"_Sparing you all some forensic jargon, I was able to narrow down the number of locations that dirt could have come from. Based on the data, he didn't go to any place that's in Gotham. However, there is one that does have a connection to the city and seems the best candidate._"

"Don't leave us in suspense, just tell us already!" Huntress exclaimed, her impatience getting the better of her.

"_Stonegate Prison._"

You could almost hear the sound of an album screech. For quite a few people, the name Stonegate didn't really register. In fact, for Nightwing, he found himself searching his own head and coming up with a blank. He found himself sharing confused looks not only with the girls, but also his former partner.

Fortunately, Huntress seemed to have a clue. "Stonegate? But that place got shut down years ago. What the hell is a guy like March doing there?"

"Um, sorry, but what is Stonegate Prison and how long ago was it shut down?" Spoiler asked tentatively.

Huntress stared the younger female down, but when she found the blank looks from the other Birds, you could practically hear the eyeroll. "Stonegate used to be the place Gotham sent its scum to before they decided, 'hey, we could do worse, let's build Blackgate!' So they did, sent all the cons from Stonegate to Blackgate, and left Stonegate to rot on the side of the river. That place is practically Kane County, and it was shut down before _I_ was born."

Neat, glad to have the cliff notes version of that. Still, that meant this decommissioned prison was quite some distance away.

"Maybe that's why he went there. Because who else is going to go all the way to Stonegate? If nothing else, that means it could be a great hideout for the guys that have been attacking us," Red Robin suggested.

Before anyone could attempt to tear a hole in that reasoning, Oracle came to the masked teen's defense unintentionally. "_Before I told you about it, I checked into Stonegate myself and I found something very peculiar. You see, for a place that's been abandoned, it's had quite the increase in electrical usage recently. Since the dirt matched with the soil composition found there, that's why I believe that's the most likely place to investigate._"

That effectively destroyed all arguments against it.

"Well, now we gotta check it out," Nightwing stated, looking around the other vigilantes. "They've pretty much just announced that this is where we're hiding. I don't know about you, but I would like to knock on their door and see if they're hungry for a knuckle sandwich."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Manhunter agreed as she adjusted her grip on her staff.

No further words seemed to be needed as they came to a group consensus. Shared looks seemed to be the preferred way to communicate this with determined expressions serving as affirmatives to do this.

Black Canary shot a look over at Red Robin, the only one who had a neutral expression on his face. Seeing where she was looking, Nightwing followed her gaze and noticed how his former partner seemed to be keeping himself apart.

"You want to bring those friends of yours?" Black Canary asked the masked teen. "I'm betting they're itching to get some payback of their own."

Though his eyes were hidden by his mask, Nightwing knew the younger male was looking anywhere but at them. "There's a reason it's only me. I didn't want to risk any of them getting hurt, not after last night. I wanted to make sure you all know what we knew then try to figure out how to get everyone back to Jump and out of your hair."

"Fair enough," Huntress cut in. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

Now Nightwing was feeling a bit more disappointed, only this time for another reason. It had been good seeing his old partner around, fighting beside him no matter how short it was. A part of him knew it would be temporary; even still he was not ready to reach this point where it was another goodbye.

Well, maybe he could take his frustration on those Black Glove guys.

The night was only just beginning.

* * *

One habit that Gordon had formed, without complaints from family members, was keeping his guns in top shape. That meant cleaning and maintaining them. It wasn't unusual to see him examine a revolver, checking its ammunition, and ensuring that nothing gummed up the internal mechanisms.

This night, he had done quite a bit of maintenance on a variety of firearms, a few of which had been holstered on his person. A person on the outside looking in might think he was getting ready for a fight.

In short, he was. Before he could go to war, he needed intel about where he should first go.

"So we did some digging, looking for anything strange or out of the ordinary, like you asked," Bullock said, hands in his pockets. "To be honest, nothing stood out, not at first. Just a lot of robberies, car thefts, one indecent exposure, and a few murders. It was more surprising how low that number was."

"What did you find?" The commissioner found his patience for rambling and small talk was on vacation, and so was not in the mood for the typical chitchat. He wanted to know what these detectives had managed to dig up.

As if sensing all this, the heavyset man nodded his head, not bothering to complain about the cold treatment. "Had to think outside the box for a bit, and R—Montoya found something that was close to what you were asking for. On the surface, they look random, a suicide here, an overdose there."

"The cause of deaths may have been different, but there were too many similarities," Montoya cut in. "A couple of the cases were ones that Lieutenant Gordon was working on. They involved urban explorers."

The commissioner nodded his head. He barely recalled, but he thought he had talked with Sarah about one of them. She had been having a little difficulty with the parents of one who had committed suicide. The details escaped him, and hearing his late wife's name sent a pang through his heart. He needed to harden it right now, and keep focused.

"I asked Sawyer to expand the search, searching for anymore deaths involving urban explorers," the Hispanic detective continued. "She was able to find two more cases from Kane County. It had been making the news over there; apparently two individuals, also urban explorers, had been discovered, bled dry. There's been talk about devil worship and it's been causing a little panic in that area.

"That's four cases, and further investigation revealed that all of these people had one thing in common, other than a shared hobby. Each had posted to social media an intention of exploring the shutdown Stonegate Prison."

That caused Gordon to perk up. Montoya was continuing to speak, reported more of what the trio had found out. However, none of that was necessary.

"That's where I'm going," he stated.

"Going? You mean Stonegate?" Bullock asked for clarification. "The place is abandoned; who in their right mind would try to hide out there."

The commissioner paused then stared the lieutenant in the eye. "The man who came in here and murdered my wife is not a typical criminal. Like the rash of those new types, the freaks that keep getting sent to Arkham, he dressed up along with those metas he brought with him. It wasn't a standard ski mask and black gloves ensemble either. He's emulating this element, which means he'll be copying the M.O.s of the rest.

"With that I mind, explain to me how someone who dresses like one of the Arkham inmates is in their right mind? More in point, like you said, who in their right mind hides in an abandoned prison other than a person who isn't in their right mind?"

The three detectives shared a look with one another. Sawyer was the one to shrug her shoulders and say, "He's got a point. Logical and everything."

It seemed they were grasping more than just his logic, because Montoya turned back to him and asked, "You're not intending to go there alone, are you?"

That made the commissioner pause for a moment. "I'm not about to ask any of you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. What I'm about to do is against all the rule and policy that comes with being an officer of the law. What I should be doing is calling in a SWAT team and charging in there. That is not what I am going to do. If this gets out, it may cost me this job, but I am not in the mood to care about that now. I will not ask you to help me, because then your own jobs, lives, at risk. If someone has to go down, then it will be me and no other."

The grieving commissioner was grabbing whatever firearms he could, and tucking them on his person. Lastly, he snagged a brown trenchcoat, slipping it on as he began to make his way out of his office. Gordon found himself being stopped by Bullock, he threw his arm out, blocking his way.

"Com'mish, don't be stupid. Do you really think any of us are going to let you go in there, guns a blazing, without us?" the lieutenant asked mildly, and at the same time incredulously.

"Lieutenant Gordon was a friend to us all," Montoya added.

"She supported us all in one form or another," Sawyer chimed in. "Whether it was bringing us in for task forces…"

"Giving us tips on how to improve and do our jobs better," Montoya listed off.

"Or giving you a hard time 'cause you need that extra push and I just found it hilarious teasing her right back," Bullock summed up. "Sarah was—is—one of our own. She fell in the line of duty, and we're going to make Goddamn sure that the bastards responsible get what's coming to them. You're easy to figure out, Jim. That's why, before coming, we loaded up and are locked and loaded. I even brought my shotgun from home for this one. We're coming."

Gordon felt his face slacken, surprised and stunned by the camaraderie facing him. He didn't stay that way, and his facial features hardened. It was easy to see there were those whose lives his late wife had touched, and they were here to pay back the debt they felt they owed.

Nodding, the commissioner stated more than asked, "You know the risks?"

He got three nods in the affirmative.

"Then let's catch these sons of bitches."


	28. Danse Macabre

Danse Macabre

There was something about flying, or in this case gliding, that Red Robin found somewhat liberating. It was only you, up in the air, coasting over the ground far below, no worries, or cares, or Batman to stress you out. Unlike certain people, he couldn't stay up indefinitely. Like every human, you eventually needed to return to earth.

But that was how he returned to the boat, gliding down on deck. It made it easier to avoid unwanted attention. Even though he was back, the masked teen did a cursory scan, noted the still damaged engines at the rear, and grimaced.

Nothing had changed really.

"You back?" Practically popping out of nowhere appeared Beast Boy, his feet landing with a thud on the yacht's deck.

"Yes, I'm back," Red Robin confirmed with the enthusiasm of a retail drone. He strolled into small ship's innards, heading for a room where he knew he would find some of the others.

"So what's up? What'd they say?" the green changeling pressed, following after the Gotham native with a pit-pattering of footsteps.

Red Robin didn't answer immediately. He passed by Wonder Girl who frowned not at him but at his proverbial green puppy. Looks like someone else wanted to greet him first. However, he wasn't in the mood for any chit chat until he could get everyone else gathered all at once. That way he would only have to say this once.

To his luck, the other three were gathered in a room, one that had been made by nonverbal agreement to be a meeting room of sorts. It had been the same one that they had planned their break in to Pena Doro, and now it would serve for tonight's briefing.

First thing was first, he noted Cyborg. The robotic was moving more freely now, and looked to be in the middle of more adjustments, what with the way he was calibrating one of his arms. "What's the word?" he asked the larger teen.

"Not quite back to one hundred percent, but getting there. Might take another day or two," Cyborg answered honestly.

"So what's going on?" Wonder Girl cut in, arms crossed and wanting to get straight to business.

"Long story short, we think the bad guys are hiding out at a place called Stonegate Prison," the masked teen answered, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "It's a few miles from here, across the river. Pretty much an abandoned place, but they're going to check it out anyway."

"So are we going to go?" Beast Boy asked, his voice barely containing his excitement.

Red Robin's jaw tightened. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, noting how he was getting a few expectant looks from some of the others. Raven and Kori, for once, seemed to be keeping their thoughts to themselves, not giving away what they were thinking. "I told them I wasn't going to force you guys into anything. This wasn't a fight we were suppose to get involved with—"

"Oh come on! We are!" the green-skinned changeling protested. "We got into all those fights and that stuff from last night!"

"And that means what, exactly?" Red Robin retorted, shooting a sharp look at the younger teen. "The reason we got into those fights were because you and Cyborg ran off doing who knows what. What were you two doing anyway? We were just here to go after Galtry, that's it. Care to enlighten us?"

When his answer came in the form of a pair of green eyes looking away and scuffing at the floor with a foot, he knew that he wasn't going to get an answer to that question anytime soon. Hell, even Victor wasn't making eye contact, suddenly very focused on his arm.

"What's with the resistance? Aren't you usually the first guy going in, dragging us with you?" Cassie was throwing her two cents in, and you could hear some of her confusion leaking into her voice.

"And it's not fair to you that I do any of that. In the past or now or any time." Putting a hand to a face, the overwhelmed teen, frustrated and stressed, let out a loud exhale of air through his nose. "Let's just...let's just get the boat fixed and head back. Like we were supposed to have done."

"Are we not a team?" Kori asked softly.

"Are we?" Red Robin found himself retorting. Already feeling bad for making a snap like that, he took a second to compose himself? "Are the six of us really a team?" he asked more calmly. "Or, are we just six people who happened to fight the same bad guy at the same time? Who's the leader? Do we keep each other in the know about what we're doing without the others so that we're not chasing one another through one of the largest cities in the world?

"We're more like a group of buddies who happen to have a common interest at the same time. We're not really a team, and when we do get back, I'm not going to try and force anybody to do anything they don't want to do. We can go our separate ways if you guys want to. Now, even."

"Why would anyone of us want to leave?" the Tamaranian asked. Red Robin noticed how somber Cassie, Victor, and Raven looked. "I enjoy the time I spend with you all. You have been very supportive of me since we met on this planet. There is another group that has attempted to harm you, us as a whole. I would not feel...correct if I were to leave this settlement without ending the unfinished work that was started here."

"Yeah, that!" Beast Boy agreed, gesturing an arm towards the orange-skinned alien. "That last part I didn't get, but we can't leave those jerks running around! What if they find us again in Jump? We gotta stop them here while we can!"

"We can talk about team stuff later," Victor agreed, looking up from his arm with a look of determination. "Right now, there are some bad guys trying to do bad things, and they're doing those things in Batman's city. Who knows when any of us will get a chance to help him out again. I think we should settle things here and now while we still can."

"Is it because it's the right thing?" Raven spoke up. "I didn't think you were the type."

"I learned it from him," Victor shrugged his massive titanium shoulders, jerking a thumb in Red Robin's direction.

"We do have a lot to talk about," Cassie agreed. "But I think we should show those assholes that we aren't to be messed with. They tried to kill us, they attacked this sweet yacht, I think it's fair game we mess their shit up."

The blonde, armor-wearing warrior took her spot center stage, five pairs of eyes on her. Yes, even Red Robin did so and the confidence she held in her stance with a little awe-inspiring. He hadn't ever seen her in this light.

"So who wants to crash this party?" Cassie—no, Wonder Girl—declared, giving them each a look. When her eyes went over Cyborg and Beast Boy, she added, "And get that dumb autograph you two dipshits want."

With it said like that, who could argue with that?

Letting her gaze settle on the masked teen once more, Wonder Girl asked, "So what was the name of that place these creeps are hiding in?"

* * *

The dark car slowed to a stop. The canopy slid open and Batman leapt out, his feet touching down on crunching gravel.

Looming before him was Stonegate Prison. It's outer walls were cracked and grimy from the discontinuation of maintenance. A flash of lightning created an eerie glow that shined onto the outer walls. There was a rumble of thunder that followed soon after, though it was dull and distant. There was a storm coming if the dark clouds up above were any indication.

Corrigan was right, this was a trap. It was only a question of what death-inducing trap it would be. It wasn't the first time he had stepped into such a situation and he was going to make damn certain it wouldn't be the last.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye. Tilting his head in that direction, he caught sight of a security camera. While that wasn't anything out of the ordinary for a prison, he couldn't help but notice how updated it was. Hush knew he was here.

Good.

Corrigan would be trying to enter the prison another way with the assistance of Batgirl. She had been eager to join their venture, especially when he told her Zatanna was being held hostage. Between the two of them, he was certain they could enter undetected, especially while he held Hush and his minions' undivided attention.

Something wet hit his shoulder. Glancing to it and seeing a drop of water running down his shoulder and chest, he then looked up into the sky, more droplets of rain beginning to fall. It was slow, but more and more began falling until a light rain had taken hold. Another bolt of lightning flashed through the night, another rumble of thunder, louder this time, indicating the storm was coming closer.

_Well, Batman, this is what you came for. Time to get things started._

Striding up to the entrance, he shoved the doors open, finding a small processing room in front of him. There was a front desk and grime-covered railing indicating where new prisoners were to wait in line before being shoved through a crumbling metal detector. There were benches along the walls, a couple of which were in decent shape while others had broken down.

Seeing the only way forward was through the doorway the dysfunctional metal detector framed, he made his way through it, passing through the threshold. Unsurprisingly, the device didn't go off.

However, the moment he found himself in a small hallway surrounded by rusting metal bars, the sound of a gate slamming shut behind him caught his ears. Whipping his head around, there was a gate of iron and steel blocking off the way he had just passed through.

Turning back around, he glanced as the surrounding bars, realizing this was where prisoners were watched as they passed through processing and were forced to strip and received their prison jumpsuits. He was in what was best described as a cage, a decent amount of space between the bars and the wall beyond them. That was where guards with shotguns stood, ready in the even a new prisoner decided to fight his way out.

Moving forward, he had to make a right turn, which opened into a larger room. There were shower drains in the floor, though there was no sign of shower heads sticking from the wall. If Batman recalled, the entry process used by Stonegate involved a bar of soap, a water hose, and a heavy dusting of lice killer. It was something right out of a bygone era and this room was just evidence of that.

Passing through a doorway on the opposite end of the room, he found himself in a hallway. That was when he heard a voice over the loudspeaker.

"_Welcome to Stonegate, Batman," _Hush greeted him. _"You're right on time too—for once."_

"Where's Zatanna?" he called out, stopping in his tracks.

"_Don't worry, your whore is in a safe place for now. As for you, well, I can't say the same thing."_

Suddenly, the wall next to Batman shattered, causing him to jump forward, spinning around as he did so. Bursting through the wall was Ten, a sadistic grin on his face. "Got that right!" he exclaimed as he pulled a fist back and threw it at the Dark Knight.

Immediately, Batman backpedaled, avoiding the swinging fist. He stepped back again and again, leaning from one side to the other as Ten threw fist after fist after him. Ten didn't seem to mind, at least until the vigilante stopped his dodging and stood his ground. As the dark-skinned teen threw another punch, Batman leaned to one side while shooting both of his hands up. One grabbed Ten by the wrist while the other planted itself right underneath his tricep.

Twisting his body around, Batman pulled Ten's hand down while lifting his upper arm up. This allowed him to haul the youth off the floor and send him flying headfirst through the air, a cry of surprise coming from the teen until he landed on the floor some distance away.

Not at all in the mood to play around, Batman immediately shot his hands into a pouch in his belt, pulling out his electrified brass knuckles, fitting them around his fingers and then making fists. Electricity danced over his knuckles the moment his hands were clenched.

By then, Ten was pushing himself onto his feet, spinning around to face him again. Charging forward, Batman held his fists at either side of himself, at shoulder height. The moment he was within striking distance, he threw a punch, one that slammed right into Ten's abdomen.

Ten gave out a cry of surprise, wincing as he took a step backwards from the electrified blow. Teeth bared, Batman slammed punch after punch into the youth's stomach and chest, backing him up a step after each and every blow.

Grunting, Ten then pulled a fist back right after taking another blow to his stomach, throwing it as soon as he could. Ducking down, the vigilante avoided the swinging arm, then darted to one side while keeping low as Ten tried a backhand blow, swinging his arm back the other way.

Finding himself close to a wall, Batman then leaped up into the air, pressing a foot against the sheetrock. Springing off the wall, he had a fist drawn back, throwing a moment later, and slamming it right into Ten's face. The force of the blow sent the teen head first into the opposite wall, his skull breaking through and leaving a hole in its wake.

Wrenching his head back, Ten growled as he turned to face the Dark Knight. Batman had landed a moment before and had taken the time to put a small distance between them, keeping the youth firmly in front of him. "You can't beat me, old man," Ten growled as he began storming towards him. "How many times do I have to tell you, I can't feel pain."

Oh, was that so? Batman held his fists to his sides, electricity from the brass knuckles crackling. "We'll see about that," he told hm.

He then lunged at the youth a moment later, throwing another punch, one that landed against Ten's chest, causing him to grunt. Pulling the fist back, he then threw another punch, again landing it.

Suddenly, Ten shot a hand up and grabbed onto his forearm. "I got you now!" he shouted even as he pulled his other fist back, ready to throw it.

Undeterred, Batman leaned backwards, his feet sliding forward. That's when he lost his equilibrium and began falling down to the floor, even as his feet continued to slide forward and between Ten's legs. Maneuvering his arm within the teen's grasp, he grabbed onto his opponent's arm, ensuring neither one of them could pull away. Pulling down on Ten as he slid between his legs, Batman pulled the young man down until he toppled over, hitting the floor with his head even as the vigilante slid across the floor. The force of the collision with the floor caused Ten to let go of his arm, which Batman was happy enough to reciprocate a moment later.

As the rest of Ten's upside-down body fell over, leaving the youth lying on his back. Batman got back onto his feet, though he kept himself crouched.

It took a moment before Ten began to roll onto his side and then his stomach. There was a snarl on his face as he gnash his teeth. "I've had enough of you, bitch," he declared before he pushed himself onto his feet, immediately running at the Dark Knight.

For once, Ten opted to do something other than punch; this time he planted a foot right in front of the dark-clad man while he swung his other leg, aiming a kick for his head. Calmly, Batman moved an arm up and blocked the kick, grunting from the force of the super-powered blow. It was pretty obvious Ten wasn't used to kicks because his blow should have been much more powerful than what the older man was blocking.

That was a saving grace that left his normal, human arm intact. Ten would really regret that decision. Pulling his other hand back, Batman let out a roar as he threw his fist forward, slamming it right into the youth's groin along with the thousands of volts of electricity from his brass knuckles.

Instantly, Ten's head was thrown back as he let out a scream, one that began higher pitched with every passing second. Eventually, he leaned back too far and fell over, collapsing to the floor and immediately rolling onto his side. He curled up into a ball, both of his hands grasping his throbbing, burning manhood.

So much for not feeling pain.

Standing up, Batman soon loomed over the teen, who cracked an eye to look up at him. "Low...blow…" he spat out through clenched teeth. "So...uncool…"

Kneeling down, Batman then reached a hand forward and grabbed the youth by the hair on his head, pulling his head up. "I fight dirty," he said succinctly even as he drew his other fist back.

Then he rammed his electrified knuckles right into Ten's face, the back of his skull bashing against the floor and knocking him out cold.

Standing back up, the dark-clad man stepped over his fallen foe's body, removing the brass knuckles and shoving them back into their pouch. _"Well done," _he heard Hush congratulate him over the overhead speakers. _"I honestly hadn't thought of taking Ten down that way. I suppose that has something to do with a gentleman's agreement not to attack such a place."_

Moving down the hallway at a brisk pace, Batman ignored his former friend's voice. _"Now, admittedly, I was certain that Ten would do some damage to you with his superior strength. It seems raw power isn't the way to hurt you; in that case, let's move onto what does work—sheer numbers."_

Coming around a corner, Batman came to stop. Reaching from one end of the hallway to the other was a veritable army of the 99 Fiends. Immediately, they began to hoot and holler.

"_Alright boys and girls, go __**hurt **__the Dark Knight."_

A pain seemed to strike Batman within his head, causing him to wince. None of the Fiends had thrown anything at him yet, so he knew it wasn't an external pain. He couldn't reflect any more on it through as the fiends began rushing at him.

Immediately, Batman shot his hands to his belt, pulling out several bat-shaped shuriken. In a flash, he sent them flying towards the charging Fiends, many of them taking the projectiles head—and in several cases, face—on Immediately, the first wave were knocked back, collapsing backwards onto their following comrades and giving the vigilante some space.

Recalling just how overwhelming these Fiends could be, Batman was not in the mood to humor each and every one of them in a personal beat down. Again, he pulled another gadget out of his belt, this time holding a Concussion Detonator. Pulling his arm back, he then chunked it high over the crowd of miscreants, hurling it through the air before it began to fall and disappear into the throngs.

Immediately, Batman moved back, whipping around the corner into the previous hallway. A moment later and blast of wind rushed around the corner as several people cried out. Several Fiends crashed into the wall, coming into view briefly in front of the vigilante. Soon after, they crashed right into the wall, collapsing to the floor soon after.

Moving back around the corner, Batman found a much improved scene. Lying all over the floor were the Fiends, many of which were groaning. The ones closest to the vigilante were clearly knocked out, the thugs piled on top of each other due to being thrown into their comrades from the concussive force.

"_Now that wasn't fair, old friend,"_ Hush complained over the intercom. _"How else am I supposed to __**test**__ you if you won't take my obstacles seriously?"_

Again another stab of pain jolted within his head, causing him to wince. Hissing as he closed his eyes, he fought back at the pain until he could open his eyes again. That's when he noticed further down the hallway a few of the Fiends getting back up, gingerly, but clearly still able to fight. They must have been further away from the blast radius and received only a minimal amount of the concussive force.

Marching forward, Batman was fully intent on rectifying that.

* * *

It seemed Bruce was doing his damnedest to make short work of the Royal Flush Gang and 99 Fiends. While disappointing, it wasn't too surprising. With Ten out of the way, that left only Queen and Ace as the best viable card-dressed minions to at least hurt the royal pain in the ass. King and Jack had already proven they weren't a match for him.

That wasn't to say Hush wouldn't use them as cannon fodder anyways; after all, the only move a pawn had was to push forward.

However, his time table had been pushed up. "I suppose I'll have to set up the grand finale sooner than I thought," he muttered to himself. Then he smirked.

"At least I won't have to wait for very long."

* * *

Thrusting an arm forward, Batman's hand collided with the chin of a Fiend, his fingers wrapping around it to get a better hold. Due to the force of his blow, the man was thrown off balance, allowing the vigilante full control of him. Growling, Batman forced the man to one side, leading with his head until the side of his skull smashed right into a wall. Immediately he felt the man go limp; yet, he wasn't done with him yet.

Pulling on him again, Batman threw the body further down the hall, where he crashed into a couple more Fiends, causing them to stop in their tracks as they grabbed a hold of him so that they weren't completely knocked over.

Using that as a distraction, Batman lunged at the two Fiends, flying through the air as he swung a leg, nailing the one on the right with a kick to the side of his head. Knocked clean off his feet, the Fiend flew head first into another wall, collapsing into a heap on the floor a moment later.

That left the Fiend on the left to bend down as he adjusted to suddenly holding his friend's entire weight, ending up leaning forward and incidentally lowering the unconscious fiend to the ground. By that point, the Dark Knight had landed on his feet and was continuing to spin on his heels until he faced the last standing Fiend. With a fist drawn across his chest, he then swung it out widely, delivering a backhanded blow across the Fiend's face. Head snapping to a side, the man was launched off his feet, spinning around rapidly before he collided with the floor, bouncing off of the ground once before settling back down on it.

Pausing for a moment the pant, Batman looked ahead of himself, seeing a short distance away to a doorway, a rusting iron gate barring him from the next area. A glance behind him showed an endless wake of unconscious, broken Fiends. Many were sprawled on the floor, others slumped against the wall. A few were still moaning, though those were the ones the vigilante had shattered their legs or knees. They wouldn't be getting back up to cause further problems.

Satisfied he had dealt with the current mob, Batman began walking towards the iron gate. However, he came to an abrupt stop when he noticed—and heard—the gate rattling. Suddenly, the bars, bolts, and hinges ripped off of the doorway, the gate pulling itself apart until its various parts were hovering in midair, their sharp, jagged edges pointed right at the dark-clad man.

Without warning, they all charged at him. Throwing himself backwards, he purposefully fell to the floor, landing on his back just as the metal barrage flew over his head. Swinging his feet upwards, he went into a roll up his back and over his shoulders, getting back to his feet a moment later.

Jerking his head around, he saw the storm of metal parts slow to a stop just before they began flying back the way they came—and incidentally right back at him. Gritting his teeth, he charged towards the doorway, running as fast as he could. Flying right through the doorway, he abruptly darted to his left, taking cover behind wall there. The rush of flying iron flew right through the doorway then, some of the parts hitting the other side of the walled entrance, stopping them. As for the rest…

The rest closed in on Queen, who stood right out in the open. She had her hands low, out by her hips with the palms facing upwards. The metal pieces slowed to a stop, hovering on either side of her arrogant self. "It's about time you showed up," she taunted him.

Batman merely scowled. Unfortunately, out of all of the Royal Flush Gang, she was at her most dangerous here. The entire prison had been made from the strongest metals of iron and steel to ensure the prisoners wouldn't escape. Now they offered her a plethora of weapons she could use to make a shish kabob out of him.

This would have to be a quick encounter.

With a smirk, Queen began gathering her metal projectiles together. The iron melded with itself at two points above the girl, two large arrowheads forming in midair. "Let's see how you like being ripped to shreds," she declared before she thrust her hands out in front of her.

Instantly, the large arrowhead raced towards the Dark Knight. Crouching low, Batman waiting until the last moment before he dove forward, both arrowheads crashing into the wall behind him and damn near destroying it as they tore through the brick and stone.

Going into a roll, the moment Batman was on his feet, remaining crouched, he swung out a hand, throwing a bat-shaped shuriken at the girl. Predictably, the projectile came to an immediate stop in front of her face, the girl looking at it disapprovingly. "Really?" she drawled. "Haven't you learned already these toys won't work?"

Of course he had. With her attention on the shuriken, she failed to notice the small metal marble bouncing across the floor, slowing to a roll until it stopped just by her feet. Suddenly, the little pellet blew apart, unleashing a transparent, green-tinged gas, which rushed all around her. Crying out from surprise, Queen immediately began coughing. Losing her focus, the shuriken hovering in front of her face, fell from the air, clattering to the floor.

Stumbling forward, Queen escaped the gas cloud, still gagging before she came to a stop. Arms hanging limply at her sides, the vigilante watched as he eyes glazed over, then rolled into the back of her head. She then dropped to the floor, a victim of the rather potent knockout gas.

Waiting several moments for the gas to dissipate, Batman kept an eye on the girl, not seeing so much as a twitch. Just to be safe, he pulled out his gas mask and placed it in front of his mouth and nose, clicking the attachment into place. Striding forward, he passed through the area, entering another hallway soon after.

It wasn't long after that he came to his next obstacle. Once he had been certain the gas wouldn't affect him, he had removed his gas mask, right before he entered a cell block. To his right were narrow, tall windows, bars covering them. To the right were three levels of jail cells, railed platforms on the second and third levels to allow access to the cells there.

And naturally King was on the ground floor, a hand pointed right at the vigilante as he fired one of his energy blasts. Immediately, Batman darted to one side, avoiding the beam. Undeterred, King fired blast after blast at him, moving his hand back and forth, side to side to keep aiming at him. In turn, Batman dodged each and every beam, moving left to right and left, bobbing and weaving.

"Stay still, coward!" King shouted at him. "I'm going to get you back for what you did to me at the GCPD!"

Batman scowled again. This guy was just a nuisance now. As he dodged another beam, he reached to his belt and pulled out a smoke pellet, throwing it at his own feet and covering himself in a cloud of smoke.

"Oh, you're trying to fly up to the ceiling again, aren't you?" King declared. "That won't work on me twice!"

Well, the youth had been right. However, that gave the older man an opening. Again reaching to his belt, he pulled out a handful of shuriken, one of which he pressed his thumb up against the bat-shaped body until a red light flashed. Then sweeping his hands out to either side of him, he sent a storm of projectiles flying.

All of them exploded out of the smoke cloud, flying right towards King. His yelp of surprise told the vigilante he had succeeded in catching the young man off guard. Predictably, he began firing his signature energy beams. By then, the smoke cloud his dissipated enough for him to watch as King shot each shuriken out of the air. Almost comfortably, he moved his hand from side to side, firing a blast, then another. One shuriken was hit with each beam until one last one was left. Smirking, King took aim at it as it was perhaps a couple feet away.

Firing his blast, the moment it connected with the bat-shaped shuriken, it suddenly exploded, the explosion throwing the youth backwards as he screamed. Immediately charging forward, Batman rushed through the fresh smoke, emerging on the other side to see King crumpled on the floor, groaning as he slowly began to push himself up. Leaping up into the air, the vigilante looked like a wraith, his cape billowing out around him.

Head jerking, King let out a terrified cry as Batman landed on top of him, his feet slapping down on either side of the youth. Shooting a hand out, he latched onto King's throat, cutting off his scream as it turned into a gag. As he drew a fist back, he growled, "I don't have any time to play with you."

Then he slammed his fist into King's face, snapping his head backwards, which caused the back of his skull to collided with the floor, knocking him out cold.

Standing up, by his estimate he had only one more Royal Flush gang member left. Knowing Jack, he would be popping up any—

Suddenly, a fist collided with his face, knocking him clear off his feet. Gritting his teeth, Batman swung his feet upward even as he stuck a hand above his head. His hand planted on the floor, allowing him to go into a flip, which he completed a moment later as he landed on his feet.

An elongated arm hovered right where his head had been, the fist pointing right towards him. The arm stretched a short distance back before it turned upwards and reached up to the third level of cells. Following the arm, Batman spotted Jack descending down from his hiding spot, stretching his legs down to the floor. "You sure showed King who's boss," he joked as he stood before the vigilante, his body expanded to loom over him.

"But now it's my turn and you won't be leaving here alive."

Jack then lunged forward, throwing another fist at him. Running forward, Batman dodged the blow as it slammed into the floor where he had been standing. Back suddenly stretched his torso out widely, enclosing on the Dark Knight in an attempt to wrap himself around him. Diving forward, Batman went into a roll, going between Jack's legs, and avoiding the trap.

As he ended up crouched on the floor, a droning sound was made, causing him to look further down the cell block. At the end, which forced a left turn, he saw a moderately sized ventilation grate in the wall, the propellers for the ventilation systems starting to spin as they were activated.

Alarms went off in the vigilantes head and lunged forward; soon after, Jack slammed another fist into the floor right where he had been standing.

Racing to the end of the block, he then skidded to a stop, pulling out his grapple. Firing it, the grapple claw clamped down on the grate. Spinning around, Batman then pulled as hard as he could on his grapple line, the claw wrenching the ventilation grate right out of the wall. Deactivating the claw, the grate covering went flipping through the air towards Jack. For whatever reason, the youth had thinned his body, leaving it elongated and twisting into a S-shaped. Seeing the grate flying towards him, he lashed out with a hand, grabbing the metal cover at a safe distance from him. Dismissively, he threw it away, where it crashed against one of the cell doors, crumpling from the impact and falling to the ground. "Is that the best you got, old man?" he inquired snidely.

"Not quite," Batman admitted. Soon after he had spoken, the claw to the grapple returned to the barrel, clicking into place and ready for use again. Pointing it behind him and towards the ceiling, he fired it again, hearing it hit an anchor point soon after. Grappling up into the air, he stopped his ascent, right next to the open ventilation shaft, one arm hanging onto the grapple as his feet pressed against the wall.

"I don't know what you're doing, but it won't work!" Jack shouted before he threw another fist, stretching across the large distance between them. Holding his ground, Batman watched the incoming fist, waiting until the last second before he moved his own arm and blocked the blow.

Then he grabbed onto Jack's extended arm with his hand and yanked hard on it. He directed the fist and arm to the ventilation shaft, shoving it right to the spinning propeller. Immediately, Jack's hand was sucked in, wrapping around the center axis, which due to the spinning pulled more and more of the arm into it.

"No!" Jack cried out as he was suddenly yanked forward. No amount of stretching he could do could stop the pulling, the youth finding himself rapidly pulled right into the shaft. Arm, torso, legs, even head were pulled in. Though Batman had no fear of the youth being chopped up by the blades, he kept an eye on the shaft just in case.

Then, in spite of the spinning, Jack's head and neck began to stretch out from the vent, his face twisted from the strain of it. Reaching to his belt, Batman pulled out a freeze grenade and tossed it into the shaft. Immediately, it exploded into a gaseous, blue cloud, Jack screaming for a whole new reason as his body as frozen to the propeller. Incidentally, the ventilation blade came to a stop as the shaft was entombed in ice.

"Not again!" he raged, his head twisting from side to side in a vain attempt to free himself.

Watching him, Batman decided to lend some pity. Pulling back his free hand, he then threw his fist, which nailed Jack against the side of his face. Though he was naturally rubbery, the force of his blow caused his head to swing away and ultimately into the wall on the other side of the shaft. His head bounced off of it, but then went limp, hanging down towards the floor.

"_Bravo," _Hush's voice called out from the intercom once again. _"You've finally finished off the Royal Flush Gang. That isn't an easy feat."_

Scowling, Batman looked up to the ceiling, where he saw one of the intercoms extending out from the roof.

"_Now then, if you would look to your right, you'll see a marker on the floor. Follow it. I promise you won't want to miss what's at the end of the line."_

Looking down to the floor and to the right, Batman then saw an arrow spray painted on the floor, much like the one that had been painted in Wayne Manor. Disengaging his grapple, he dropped to the floor, landing on his feet, and began following the trail.

* * *

The room was musky, haunting even. It was stripped bare, its former use a complete unknown.

Standing in the middle of it was Batgirl, surveying it as she stood straight up. Behind her was the mysterious man Batman had introduced her to, something…Corrigan. She could not recall his first name, not that she needed to.

She had been surprised when she received the call. Her father needed her help and she was more than happy to be of assistance. While she wasn't too pleased with his plan to go right through the front door, she understood that was for her and Corrigan's benefit.

And as it turned out, it was necessary. This former prison was locked up in ways she had not anticipated, not to mention being watched. Security cameras were active and on the lookout, which caused her to have to get very creative. Though it would not have been a problem were she on her own, she had Corrigan with her and he was not as close to her when it came to stealth.

Which was why they were in this room.

Above then was an open ventilation duct, the grate hanging forlornly from the opening. There was no need to explain how they got in there, just that they had and it led them here. They were officially in Stonegate.

Glancing behind her, she saw a glazed over look on Corrigan's face, something she was not happy to see. "Wake up," she hissed lowly at him.

The supposed detective flinched from her tone. "Oh, I apologize. I was expecting an overload of negativity upon entering here, but I suppose I underestimated it." He shook his head. "There is a lot of magical forces at work here."

Which meant nothing to her considering they entered in a very physical fashion. "Where do we go from here?" she questioned.

Corrigan stared at the doorway ahead of them, but then he began slowly turning to his left. She was certain he was going to spin around, but he stopped when he was facing a corner. "There a large amount of magic in use over there," he indicated with a nod. Then he looked downward. "Even more down that way. I'll need to get in closer proximity to these masses of magic before I can determine what is going on at those locations."

Batgirl sharply nodded at him. "I will lead the way. Stay close."

"By all means, ladies first."

* * *

The graffiti arrows led Batman through a winding trail until the corridor opened. There was no doorway, it simply ended and a room began. There was a set of iron bars hanging from hinges on the wall, but it was chained to the wall to keep it open.

The room itself was the shower room. It was large and tiled, though there were occasional spots where tiles had been broken and ripped right off of the floor and walls. Some even sported rust-like discoloration. At even intervals high along the walls were shower heads, each one extending diagonally out as they pointed to the floor. In the middle of the room were eight foot cement stands, where prisoners could hang their towels and place their bars of soap. There were eight of them, two facing to the left, two to the right, two towards the vigilante, and the last two towards the far wall.

And seated in the far corner was Zatanna, bound to an old wooden chair. Her hat was missing, head hanging low so that her dark hair covered her face. She didn't so much as twitch at the dark-clad man's entrance. Since her chest was rising and falling at a slow, measured rate, he could gratefully assume she was unconscious.

And standing in front of the cement stands was Hush, his arms crossed over his chest as he coolly gazed at the Dark Knight. "For once, you are right on time," the bandaged man greeted him.

Batman took a threatening step towards his former friend. "And your time is up."

Immediately, Hush uncrossed an arm and made a stop gesture with his hand. "I wouldn't take another step if I were you. There are some new house rules it would behoove you to know."

"I'm done playing games."

Hush gazed at him before he pulled his hand back, raising it up to his face. He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, the shower head to Batman's left began spraying out green fluid, which immediately began to hiss the moment it hit the floor. Smoke began wafting up into the air, which gave the vigilante pause.

"Now that I have your attention," Hush spoke smugly, "the rules are thus followed: each one of these shower heads is filled with acid. I'm certain you've noticed the smoke by now. Now that the first shower is running, the others will follow suit, each running on a timer. Each shower will begin its acid bath, going down the line until it reaches your little whore. Your task is simple: save your whore before she melts into a pile of burning, rotting flesh."

The second shower head suddenly began spraying acid. Instantly, Batman began to walk towards Zatanna, the only thing stopping him was Hush reaching out with his other hand and grabbing onto his shoulder as he began to pass him. "Of course, you have to get through me first."

By the time Batman turned his head to look at Hush, the man's fist slammed into his face. Stars exploded before his eyes and he stumbled backwards a step. Gritting his teeth, Batman resisted the urge to shut his eyes, instead going on the defensive as he blocked another punch thrown by Hush. Backpedaling, he blocked each subsequent punch with every step he took until he got his balance back.

Parrying the next punch, Batman countered, throwing his own fist at his foe. In response, Hush caught the punch, his hand wrapping around the Dark Knight's wrist, stopping it. Immediately, then twisted his arm, causing Batman to wince from the awkward position of his arm. Instinctively, his body turned to adjust to the strain.

However, he wasn't going to let this leave him vulnerable. Head tilted back, Batman threw himself forward, his forehead ramming into Hush's in a vicious headbutt. Hush cried out from the blow as he let go of his arm, stumbling back a step. Leaning backwards to get his balance back once again, Batman reared back on one leg, raising up the other before kicking it out. His foot slammed right into Hush's chest, sending him careening the short distance back into the cement stand.

Bringing his foot down, the dark-clad man lunged forward, throwing his fist for Hush's head. Recovering, the bandaged man immediately rolled to a side, leaving the vigilante to slam his fist into the cement. He grimaced from the pain that shot up his arm, but that was the only sign of discomfort he allowed. Drawing his fist back, he was slightly pleased to see some cracks in the stone surface from where he hit it.

That's when Hush appeared at his side, his hand latching onto the back of his head. Shoving as hard as he could, he smashed Batman's face into the cement stand, once, twice. Feeling bruised and bloodied—no doubt from a nose bleed—Batman reacted then, shoving up his closest arm, which allowed his elbow to hit the underside of Hush's arms, leveraging them off of his hold on the dark-clad man's head.

Spinning to face his opponent, Batman threw himself forward, grabbing onto Hush as he forced the man to stumble backwards until he ran right into the shower room wall. Growling, Hush grabbed onto Batman as well, only he moved one of his feet next to the vigilante's. With all his strength, he pulled on the man to a side, causing him to trip over the extended leg. Due to Batman holding onto the bandaged man, both men went tumbling to the floor, Batman landing on his back and Hush on top of him.

That's when the third shower began spraying acid.

"Allow me to tell you a story, Brucie," Hush taunted him as he loomed over the Dark Knight. "Once upon a time, there was this successful businessman. He was known for his charm and brilliance, even envied by those he surrounded himself with.

"But one day, his _best friend _betrayed him." A sharp pain jolted within Batman's head, causing him to wince. "Wounded and hurt, this businessman sought out to avenge himself against those who wronged him and he would have too...if it weren't for that same best friend throwing him off a building to his _death_."

Again, the pain, but this time Batman shoved an arm up, his hand pressing against the underside of Hush's chin, shoving his head up towards the ceiling. This allowed him to draw his other fist back, which he threw the moment he pulled his other hand back, his punch slamming into his opponent's face.

"Gyahh!" Hush cried out, right before Batman grabbed onto the collar of his trench coat and pulled him to a side, throwing him off of him. Rolling in the opposite direction, he quickly got back to his feet, just as Hush was getting to his.

"Time went by," Hush continued, unperturbed. "And this former friend's city was under attack, which led him to his _death_, or so everyone claimed." Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a handgun and took aim.

In spite of the pounding in his head, Batman instinctively took cover behind the cement stands, just as a gunshot went off. A chunk of cement was blasted off, sending the pieces to the floor even as a tile along the wall shattered from the impact of the bullet. "That was when a man, a _doctor_ by trade—" again, pain burned through his head, but this time coupled with nausea, "—felt this friend shouldn't be dead for very long and sought to return him to this world. Unbeknownst to him, however, this bad friend had merely faked his _death_."

Ignoring the massive migraine he was feeling as he moved around the cement stands, Batman just rounded a corner when Hush leaped around the chipped cement stand and fired another shot. This bullet also hit the wall, the tile shattering. The sound of the gunshot echoed loudly through the room.

Reaching to his belt, Batman pulled out a bat-shaped shuriken, even as the fourth shower head turned on. Moving to the gap between the two back wall-facing stands, he forced himself between them and turned to a side, just in time to see Hush creeping into sight. It was between the gap of the two right facing stands, but that was enough for Batman to throw his shuriken. Instantly, the projectile struck Hush's hands, causing him to yelp as his gun was knocked out of his grasp.

Moving towards the front-facing stands, again Batman slid his way between them, then rounding the corner of the chipped stand. Hush was holding his injured hand, which allowed him the perfect opportunity to end this little fight. Moving up behind him, Batman wrapped an arm around Hush's throat, securing it with his other arm as a hand latched onto the back of the bandaged man's head. His choke hold secure, he began applying pressure.

Hush immediately gagged as he choked, both of his hands shooting up to grab his arm. He thrashed from side to side in a vain attempt to throw him off, the dark-clad man resisting his action successfully.

Then Hush leaned backwards moving one of his arms up. Then bending it at the elbow, he jabbed it downward and back, ramming his elbow right into the Dark Knight's side. Batman grunted from the blow, but held firm. Again and again, Hush raised and jabbed that elbow back, hitting, or glancing off the vigilante's side.

Once he realized that wasn't working, Hush then leaned forward again, only this time, he threw his head back. If it wasn't for his hand on the back of his head, Batman would've caught the full brunt of that blow; in this case, it was only partial.

Unfortunately, that gave the man a little more wiggle room and he used it to force his way out of the hold. Stepping away, Hush then raised an arm up to shoulder height, keeping it bent just before he twisted around. His elbow collided with the side of the vigilante's head, causing him to stumble away to one side.

"I'm not finished with my story, Bruce," Hush growled at him, closing the short distance between them quickly. He grabbed onto the Dark Knight's shoulders and pulled on him, throwing him to the floor, where he slid across the tiles. "Now where was I? Oh, right.

"Not knowing the friend was alive and well—" Batman was scrambling back onto his feet, turning to face his foe, "—the _doctor_—" again his head throbbed and he winced, "—performed a ceremony to resurrect him."

Suddenly, Hush was right in front of him, leaning back on one foot as he raised the other. Kicking forward, he slammed the bottom of his foot into the Dark Knight's face, sending him sailing backwards until he hit the floor, sliding across it. He narrowly stopped just before his head went under the acid spray, though that didn't stop Batman from immediately jerking his head away from the deadly fluid.

"However, instead of resurrecting the friend, the good _doctor_ got someone else instead. Screaming, burning with madness, the businessman was pulled out of the depths of Hell. I can't tell you what it was like, not in adequate words as none do it justice."

Batman paused then. So it was just as Corrigan had suspected; the mastermind of this whole plot had magically restored Hush to life, though it sounded as if he had wanted the vigilante himself. It had been a plan that had been ruined before the ritual had taken place thanks to his body being submerged in a Lazarus Pit soon after his death. "Though he was alive once more, the businessman found himself in perhaps a worse hell, that of endless servitude to the one that stole him from the clutches of _death_."

And it seemed like this doctor—God, did he need to see one after this. He needed a psych evaluation and probably a lengthy stay at a mental hospital for all the stuff he had done. Batman had to shake his head at that thought. Now wasn't the time for something that negative.

"Now as it turned out, both of these men had a common enemy in the former friend, so they agreed to help each other out. With the friend who knows where, it left his entire life just sitting there for the taking. So the businessman came up with the idea to assume the friend's life, even going so far as to perform plastic surgery on himself to resemble the missing friend."

Batman clutched his hands tightly. He knew it; Hush had made himself look just like him so he could take over his life as Bruce Wayne. "However, by the time the surgery had healed, the friend had returned, no worse for wear, and squandered that plan."

That would place this right at his return to Gotham following Nanda Parbat. If he wasn't mistaken, Hush had joined the company as Lincoln March shortly after that. It seemed they had come up with a new plan quickly.

The fifth shower turned on then. Alerting him to the pressing danger, Batman jerked his head and saw that the acid showers had started along the back wall with the head further from Zatanna. There were...four more heads to go before it reached her.

Suddenly a shadow loomed over him. Turning his head back, he saw Hush standing over him, a leg raised high, ready to stomp him. Immediately, he rolled to a side, just as Hush slammed his foot down, the impact of his foot on the floor echoing throughout the room. "It wasn't until a laughing maniac attacked his precious little superhero club that the two allies were able to have a second chance."

Getting up to his feet, Batman assumed a defensive stance, though Hush made no move to attack him again, straightening his posture. "Think about it; isn't there a blank spot in your memory? One no matter how hard you try, you can't get access to it? Allow me to fill you in; it was at a little facility in Guam. The friend wanted to learn more about madness and insanity, so he subjected himself to incredible mental torture as part of an experimental isolation experiment."

Batman felt himself stiffen. He knew exactly what the bandaged man was talking about. Shortly after the Joker had taken down the Justice League, he had gone off to that little island and tried to get a better understanding of how the madman thought. Even now, it was...difficult but...a doc...physician there, calling himself...Hurt, had assisted him.

_Your identity as the subject of these tests will, of course, be kept strictly confidential. I am Hurt, Dr. Simon Hurt, and I will be overseeing your participation._

"And that's when the good _doctor_ implanted a little Trojan horse. A program that could only be turned on with the correct mental stimulation. It was a tedious process, but the effort was worth it. Then, it was all buried, so deep into the friend's mind that no matter how hard he tried, without the proper keys, he would never remember of his own free will. And now, much like the businessman, the friend was under the _doctor's_ control and he would _hurt._"

Sounds went off in Batman's ears, though there were soft and garbled. He couldn't make sense of what they were, but they were distracting. "And that brings us to now. After waiting for so long, the businessman is finally ready to stick the knife into his enemy's ribs." A look of gleeful malice appeared of his face. "And believe me, he will twist the knife.

"All the enemy has to do...is _give up."_

Suddenly, the sounds in his ears became clearer. Over and over, they said, "Give up, give up." They were soothing, inviting even. They beckoned him like a siren.

He resisted it. That's when another shower turned on; however, he must have lost track of time. There was now only one shower standing between Zatanna and the acid.

He was running out of time.

Letting out a war cry, Hush rushed at him. Steadying himself, Batman waited until the last moment, even as Hush was throwing a punch at him. Then he darted to one side, his foe rushing right by him.

He didn't get too far, though. Shooting a hand out, he grabbed onto the back collar of Hush's coat and pulled back. This caused Hush's upper body to stop even as his feet continued moving forward, flying out from underneath him. Falling, the bandaged man landed on the floor, letting out the air in his lungs as it was knocked out of him.

Looming over his former friend, Batman drew a fist back and then swung it down, slamming it right into the man's face. Instantly, Hush went limp, lying on the floor still. Batman couldn't help but feel there was something wrong about that.

However, he had other worries. Turning around, he saw the second to last shower turn on, showering acid on the floor. That left Zana's as the last one. Rushing towards her, he didn't spend a second untying her, instead grabbing onto her entire chair and hauling it off the floor. Spinning away from the shower so as to shield the magician with his own body, he moved her a couple steps away, just in time for the last shower head to go off.

The relief he felt was incredible. Whatever Hush and...whatever friend he had did to him, they weren't going to hur...harm Zana. For a moment, he wondered why she was so light, but it was a passing thought as he set her and the chair down the floor. "Zana," he whispered to her as he raised a hand up to her face, cradling her cheek as he lifted her head up.

Her dark hair fell from her face, but instead of seeing Zatanna's beautiful face, he saw Ace's youthful one. Her eyes were wide open, the whites of her eyes swirling rings of yellow and orange that emerged from her dark irises and disappeared at her eyelids.

Batman's feet slipped out from underneath him as he went stumbling backwards, going right into the acid shower. It wasn't until his back hit the wall that he stopped and slid down to the floor. The acid hissed as it rained on him, washing onto his exposed face, and...and…

It wasn't stinging. The acid, it didn't hurt.

"It's starting to make sense, isn't it?"

Lifting his head up, even as the room began to rotate and hang upside down, Batman found Ace in her black and white bodysuit, standing in front of him even as her eyes continued to swirl. Sauntering from one side and coming to stand behind her was Hush, the man placing his hands on her narrow shoulders. Gone was Zatanna, though the chair remained.

"Thought waves that alter perception; _that_ is Ace's ability. There was no acid, as the lack of your body melting can attest. Your whore was never here. Tell me something: does it _hurt_? Does it make you want to wish for _death_ from embarrassment? Would you like to see a _doctor_?"

Each word Hush stressed caused his mind to explode, wishing, begging for this all to end. He never should have been here; never should have put on the mask. Then he never would have to deal with the walls bursting apart as they crumbled, the shower head above him snaking down to wrap around his neck.

"It might take a little while for that last one. We have to call him from his office, you see. You know where it's at after all, you've been there. And he will come just for you, all the way…

"From _Zur En Arrh_."

And then the room shattered like glass, it's pieces hurling themselves into Batman's face.

* * *

It was almost surreal seeing a man as dark and powerful as Bruce had become laying on the floor so limp and powerless. The bat-themed hero had crumpled as soon as the last trigger words had been spoken, helpless and alone there in the prison shower room.

It was such a golden opportunity.

Squeezing Ace's shoulders, Hush whispered, "Good work," to the girl, then released his grip on her to walk around the waif of a girl and approach his defeated adversary.

How should it go? Beat the proverbial dead horse until he made the comatose man a corpse? Or perhaps something more poetic? A gunshot. A simple gunshot much like the one that had been fired twice in an alley so far away from here. Or maybe—

A black-gloved hand clamped down on his shoulder and squeezed. "Excellent work, my good and faithful servant," Hurt praised, a sickening smug smile on his face. Then it was the resurrected man's turn to be walked around as the bad doctor stood over the fallen Dark Knight like a scavenger about to pick apart its prey.

"He's in the grip of the Black Glove now. The final notes are played, the Danse comes to its end, and the House wins as always, but we aren't though, not yet," Hurt commentated, his voice filled with glee. "No, the Black Glove is _far_ from finished with this one. Our guests will be most pleased that we've only just begun."

Disgruntled, Hush hung back, but was unable to stop himself from saying, almost sulkily, "What do you plan to do now?"

His head tilted down, like a conqueror surveying his new conquest, Hurt considered the question before looking over his shoulder at the former CEO and gave a menacing grin.

"Why, to bury it all."


	29. Tilt

Author's Note: This is going to be an interesting chapter that may seen weird or out of the world, but do be patient and hopefully by the end of this chapter it makes sense. Keep an eye out for a ton of Easter eggs. Enjoy.

Tilt

_Laughter rang out, sending tremors through to the bone and playing a soundtrack of nonsense that ended in seconds and lasted for eternity. Four eyed demonic faces were the source, and they were painted everywhere, dripping downwards and meshing with more and more faces without end._

_Reds and pinks and browns swirled like wet paint, the colors bright and hauntingly dark, with blues streaking out only to fade in the emptiness._

_Burning caused breathing, and Bruce widened his mouth open to gasp only to drown as the colors flowed into him like a raging river, filling him up with nothing but savage suffering. Punches did no good, screaming gave no aid, trying to swim only led to drowning more and more and more._

_Like an impact, Bruce landed on his side—when had he been falling?—in plain red, the color splashing and rippling like crimson blood, staining him to the soul and dragging it out kicking and screaming. Everything that he was, everything that he ever would become was dragged out of his throat, from the pitiful mewls of a neglected infant to the rage of a Lantern drenched in sin, to the soft and vulnerable organs that maintained his longevity._

_The urge to give up, to surrender had never been more great, yet the colors were not yet done, opening countless mouths to swallow him whole and drag him further down the Hatter's nightmarish rabbit's hole._

* * *

The rain fell gently on to the harsh earth, yet it did not perturb the gathering of men and women as they stood around a recently filled grave. A simple, crudely-made, wooden cross stabbed into the ground, serving as a grave marker. The skeleton of a bat hung off of it, a macabre decoration.

Underneath umbrellas, the high rollers of the Black Glove appreciated the site, though they were anything but respectful to it.

"There's more," the general remarked. "Batman is not through. It will take more to bring him down."

"Let us hope so," the sheik agreed. "I have been enjoying myself so far, and it would be a shame to end it so early. I am still betting on Batman being prepared and only stunned."

"You are both correct, gentlemen," Hurt spoke up from the front. At his side stood the assassin Scorpiana, acting as lethal arm candy for the doctor. "A simple burial is not the last of what the Black Glove plans to do this night. Though I assure you, al Khidr, my programming is not something he was prepared for."

"Thank God for that," the priest said. "And here I had begun to think you were growing soft."

Hurt shook his head with a chuckle. "On the contrary, Cardinal Maggi. The grave is shallow, perhaps three feet tops. There's only approximately thirty minutes of air in the coffin. After we finish our desserts, we'll dig him back up, just in time for permanent brain damage to set in due to oxygen deprivation, and we'll revive him like a drooling Lazarus. Who knows, a change in career to something simple, like a butler, may be what's in store for him."

That drew a chuckle from the grouping, a sound muffled by the pattering of raindrops on the soaked ground.

"Come, let us return inside and hope for better weather. In the meantime, we shall see where the standings are and if anyone has been bankrupted this night," Hurt announced, gesturing with an outstretched arm. "Though, if anyone wishes to place more bets, there is still plenty of time for more."

The crunch of wet grass followed as the assembly of men and women turned away from the shallow grave, the honored guests continued to be covered with their umbrellas as they made their way back into Stonegate.

Hurt remained behind for a moment, taking one last look at the wooden grave marker. His lips curled in amusement as he idly said, "Batman R.I.P. Rot in Purgatory. Advantage: Evil."

With a dramatic flair of his cape, the bad doctor followed after his guests.

* * *

_With a gasp, sunlight spilling over a young man, preppy to a T, he pushed away from the old and wooden desk, drool from sleep coating textbooks and promises of a better tomorrow in its gooey digestion. The acidic fumes were offensive, and the young, promising Bruce stood as far as he could away, his chair clinching to his rear before seeming to melt off him yet retain its solid form._

_That was...bizarre. Where... What… Where, what, how…? Confusion from a setting sun that rose up into the sky questioned whether or not he had been responsible in keeping up with his studies. He must have been out of it for some time. The sky's dark reds were getting so much darker, and there was still so much to do!_

"_Still slackin' Mistah Bruce?" snarked the only friend he could ever claim to be close to. Dragging wide and tired eyes away from the closed and opened window, the promising young man faced off with Oswald Cobblepot. "Ya really need ta learn how ta take this seriously. That, or ya need to relax with the birds some more. Such pretty birds."_

_As the short, stout young man preened on, feathers grew from his skin, his nose elongating into a sharpened beak, and his voice squawking more and more. Bruce could only shake his head at the perverted diatribe, only commenting, "Never change, Ossy. Never change."_

_The beak reached out and snagged the collar of a black and gray sweater vest, and he was lifted off his feet, only to hover over more tiny beaks that squeaked for sustenance. High above, the mother Oswald released its offering, and he fell once more to be torn apart over and over, again and again._

* * *

From within the safety, and shelter, of an unmarked car, a pair of binoculars peered through the misty Plexiglas of the car window. The lens of the optical device bumped up against the faux glass periodically, the person holding them making only the most minute of movements.

"They're heading back inside," Montoya reported as she pulled her eyes away, lowering the binoculars. "Whatever they were doing outside, they should be done."

"The hell they were doing out there in the rain?" Bullock grumbled, shifting in his seat.

Gordon thought over it, though the answer was obvious. "Nobody goes out into the rain unless they have a good reason. A group of that many going outside and staying in it means they were doing something they considered important. Whatever it is, we need to check it out first before we attempt a breach."

The car that the four officers had taken was parked some distance away from the prison. This had been deliberate, and as of now had proven to be a very good decision. It had been by chance, but someone had noticed cars, specifically luxury types, parked nearby in a place where you would not normally expect to see them.

That alone had been a dead giveaway that something was happening. Thus, they had driven further down the road until coming to this spot. Fate seemed to be on their side as they had gotten a view of the procession leaving through the large, opened gates of the abandoned prison.

"If I hazarded to guess, it looked almost like a funeral procession," Montoya remarked.

"They were burying someone?" Sawyer asked from the driver's seat, peering at the Hispanic woman.

"I can't give anything definite," the detective responded.

"All the more reason to see what they were doing," the commissioner stated. He checked to make sure he was still armed before reaching for the door handle. "Everyone be ready for anything. We're going in."

* * *

_Waves gently washed upon the shore, sunrise baking all who dared to tread in the light. Bruce kept himself to the safe and warm shadows, reclining back and enjoying the refuge from the blistering pain of day. Though his head was...distracting right now, he would not surrender this moment for anything, not when he was in such good company._

"_Tell, me Bruce, and be honest." Turning to his left, the aging man gazed on the comforting sight of Harvey, his long suffering friend of a lawyer enjoying the raucous silence with him. "Have I been out in the sun too long? I feel a burn coming on."_

_As Harvey turned his head, his right side perfectly healthy and handsome, his now revealed left side looked cooked, like it had been roasting in an over for a day too long. It still sizzled, smelling of a perfectly time roast, savory in its flavors and odor._

"Don't…"

"_I think another day is alright," Bruce answered frankly._

"_Maybe you're right," Harvey shrugged, returning to his relaxed state even as his healthy skin slowly turned blue. "You're never wrong, are you, until you are."_

_The chill of high noon was getting to them, and the sea itself was frozen over harshly as its overseer loomed over them all. Fries showed no signs of hatred or caring, but mere clinical detachment. With a hand, he reached out, the only word that seemed to make any sense boomed from above as a mutter._

"_...corruption…"_

_Bruce felt his breath stolen away by a ton of freezing cold guilt, crushing away his certainty and honesty like a whisper on the wind._

* * *

The quickest way to Stonegate had involved wheels, and since cars were so not chic for vigilantes, it had been motorcycles all the way. As the Network had drawn closer to their destination, the bikes were ditched in favor of stealth. Who knew what awaited them up ahead?

The cars would have probably been better since the weather decided to be a bitch and rain on their parade. Wet weather, water, and tight leather were not a respectable mix.

Obviously the place and its surroundings would be patrolled. The Black Glove had proven it could not be underestimated, so they wouldn't. That was the reasoning these crimefighters would be using until proven otherwise.

They were not proven otherwise; on the walls surrounding the abandoned prison, they could see groups of men and some women walking along them, keeping an eye out for movement and trespassers. It was hard to make out what they looked like, but black seemed to be a common color scheme. Wasn't it the same for all of them?

"I think it's safe to say we're in the right place," Huntress announced. "That's way too much activity for a place like this." Thanks to the rain, her voice would be muffled enough that anyone far enough away would not hear her. How long that would last remained to be seen as the rain was starting to let up some.

Peering through a set of binoculars, Nightwing gave a further confirmation, "They look like people you would pick up from a biker bar. Some looked like they come from one of those BDSM clubs. Yep, they definitely don't belong in this place."

"Depends on which one they are," Black Canary commented wryly.

Ignoring the comment, Huntress took further charge. "We'll try circling around, see if we can find a way into this place. They need to go in and out and unless the front gate hasn't rusted over, we'll need to find a side entrance or something."

"After climbing over the walls?" Manhunter pointed out.

"Standing around doing nothing isn't going to help anything, so let's get moving," Nightwing decided for them, stopping any kind of argument from starting. While good points were being raised, right now they needed information more than anything else. Once they had a better lay of the land, then they could argue about how to go about doing this.

No matter how long it was going to take, payback was going to be so sweet.

The group of vigilantes kept to the brush, taking pains not to make a lot of noise moving through the vegetation. Huntress would have thought that the two girls that made up the rest of the Batclan would have been noisier than elephants, but surprises would not cease. The one called Bluebird seemed to be having the same problem with being wet like the rest of them, what with the leather jacket and all. Spoiler, on the other hand, had that cape and hood bit going well for her, keeping herself mostly dry by wrapping the drenched cape around her body.

Still didn't mean that didn't make some noise. It was a wonder the "prison guards" over there did overhear the racket. Perhaps she was being a bit hard, but after spending so much time with a certain pair of bats, your standards for stealth tended to meet theirs.

Katana was the one who stopped them, pointing out a dark-colored grouping that was outside the prison. Interesting, and even more so when the security details wasn't chasing after them. Obviously, those people were somehow involved with the goings on here.

The Network seemed to have good timing today; the group of Black Glove members—if that was who they really were—began to head back into the prison, heading towards a side entrance in the wall. Bingo; that would be their way in.

"Anyone know what they were doing over there?" Bluebird asked, impressively speaking without her teeth chattering. The wet weather had made it quite cool.

"I'm a bit more interested in following after those squatters than I am in what they were doing," Huntress quipped.

"Maybe we can split up?" Nightwing suggested, cutting into prevent another potential argument from coming true. "Some of us check out what they were doing and the others follow them, scout the place out and secure our way in?"

Katana nodded, showing agreement with the suggestion. "It would allow us to cover more ground, perhaps identify any…" She trailed off unexpectedly, her body going tense.

Automatically, Huntress felt herself bracing up. She could hear the sounds of twigs snapping and vegetation crunched. Someone else was out here, and telling by how much louder they were becoming, whoever they were, they were heading in the vigilantes' direction.

While tempted to go for her crossbow, Huntress instead fingered an H-shaped shuriken. If nothing else, it would buy her time to pull out the big gun if she needed to.

As she readied herself to attack at a second's notice, and self-control on a hair-trigger, their company finally came into sight and the purple and black vigilante had to jerk herself back as a green colored dog came into view, sniffing at the ground before looking right up at them. Having not expected such a sight, and instinctively not wanting to hurt a mutt, Huntress lowered her weapon as the silver color of the metal cyborg teen from Red Robin's little troupe flashed into view. The large teen's eye widened and he came to a stop, holding an arm out to the side of him.

"Whoa, I think I found your buds, Red," Cyborg called out a bit too loudly.

The several shush he got served him right.

"Yeah, shh! Cyborg!" the green mutt agreed cheekily, though he kept his voice low.

Naturally, Red Robin was quick to appear, ready to smooth over any ruffled feathers. "Glad we were able to catch up. What's the word?" he asked, stepping around the shapeshifter and taking his place in the front.

"That it would have been better if you had let Oracle know you were coming so we'd be on the lookout for you?" Nightwing was quick to speak up. "Forget it, so you all came?"

Red Robin nodded as the rest of his team appeared, all six in total. Alright, so they were going to have some firepower for this. Not that she would say it out loud, but she was curious about how these kids were going to handle themselves here. From the little she had seen in the bunker, there was really no telling what to expect.

"Well, Oracle was right on the money. It looks like the Black Glove made camp in Stonegate," the older male continued. "We were about to split up and see if we couldn't a) secure a way in, and b) see what they were up to while they were outside."

Red Robin gave a nod before turning to another girl in a hood and cloak—Raven, Huntress recalled. "Do you sense anything?"

Raven remained quiet for a moment. "I sense a big number of minds in the complex. Too many for a place to be simply abandoned." Not that they needed further confirmation, but okay. "There's also something...else. Something...not of this world is in there."

Huntress shared a look with the other Birds. While Black Canary didn't seem surprised that the Gotham exile was consulting with the Goth girl over there, she did seem concerned about that last part. Turning back, the vigilante inquired, "Care to elaborate on that?"

Raven shook her head, and if came to pass that that had been a way for her to gain concentration and not a refusal. "I'm sensing something in there, something not human. It's difficult to explain, but it is powerful. Very powerful. The feel is...almost...holy? Yet there is wrath, and a lot of it. And...and there's two of them."

"Two?" Wonder Girl said incredulously.

Raven only nodded in the affirmative. "Yes, it's distinctive now, but there are two of these...entities waiting in there. The other was covered up in the residual pain and suffering that's been left behind, but I'm picking it up, and it has the same feel as that man with the bandages."

"Can you give us anything more?" Black Canary pressed.

Another moment of silence as they waited for an answer.

"The only thing that is clear to me...is darkness. I'm sorry I can't give anymore than that." Raven seemed to be shrinking in on herself, the orange-skinned Starfire coming up from behind her and offering some camaraderie.

Great, so there was a lot more to this than they thought. Really, what the hell else was in there?

As if to answer her, Red Robin turned to Cyborg and asked, "Have your scans picked anything up?"

"Been looking since we first got here. Nothing other than some goons acting like prison guards and a lot of bodies inside," the large, metal cyborg answered. It seemed that would be all he had to say before he added, "I did pick something else up. Looks like a wooden cross. There's a skeleton hanging off it but I don't have a good angle on what it is. Also, there's a lot of dirt in front of it, freshly dug. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it looks like a grave."

Another looked was passed along, but this time the Batclan was included. Suddenly, attention was directed straight to where that party of Black Glovers—a name that was a work in progress—had been standing around before heading back inside.

Licking her lips, Huntress thought about the new intel. "Maybe we should go over there and check it out. To be sure."

No one seemed to argue that.

* * *

_Screams tore through the firmament, demanding justice for sins yet uncommitted. Tearing themselves from the parched, unsoiled earth, creatures of undead origins, dressed in costumes tight to the skin, but loose on these poor souls._

_Bruce laid among them in sorrow as more and more sprouted around him like the grimmest of sunflowers, wrapping their decrepit limbs and leave around him to bind and restrict him. Some of these rage-filled husk looked...like maybe he...did he recognize them?_

"Don't…"

_Over there was the invincible man, stabbed through with green rock. Over there, a burning mass of a green man, desperate to right wrongs and failing again and again. One was a woman who stood for truth and courage but cowered with pain and terror, staining herself with innocence to protect a memory she herself corrupted._

_Their wails, their accusations, their sins were overpowered by the retching laughs of demons, ones who bore the friendly markings of a neighborhood clown. White with colors of reds and blues and yellows shielded their faces as they did battle with the undead accusers, cackling at their rhetoric and half-protested lies._

"Don't… ...raid…."

_Acid and toxins and nitroglycerin pelted the battlefield, splattering the bound and helpless Bruce. Handles with needles containing liquid fear stabbed into whatever skin they could find, even his, making the clownish defenders more and more demonic in their appearance and nature. Their cries of "BATMAN! BATMAN"" struck a chord within him, and once more he sank, falling deeper and deeper into this pinnacle of Hell that had no end to it._

_He tried to scream, but could only whimper quiet, his voice stolen or sealed or both, it was easy to tell. The swirling abyss below or above or behind or in front await himself, greedily swallowing whatever he still had left in his decaying husk of a body._

"Don't be…"

* * *

Stealth was an art if used correctly. One could go in and out of a location without anyone being the wiser if one was good enough. Few could lay claim to this excellence.

Talia was one such person. Even as she ran, she kept her body low to the ground, gliding over overgrown grass. The ground was uneven and made solid footing quite difficult. However, the grass she was in was trampled over, allowing her to not make a trail of her own as she gave chase after her quarry. She was on the hunt, after all.

Glancing up ahead, perhaps three...no, four hundred yards ahead, there were the figures responsible for the trampled grass. They were spread out into a wide mass rather than following in single file to hide their numbers—a rather amateurish mistake. They were her Beloved's fellow vigilantes, on the move in force.

One of her assassins had spotted the Network gathering in an unexpected location. This was after an alleged trap had occurred at their secret bunker in the Bowery. She did not fault them for a change in venue, but their choice did leave something to be desired, especially if they wanted to keep it a secret. They had taken off in various vehicles, primarily motorcycles to the other side of town. This had allowed Talia to get ahead of them when notified and lay in wait.

They had discarded their vehicles some distance back when the city buildings became less and less, another sound decision. They were heading for the outskirts of the city, a looming building in the distance. According to her intel, that was an abandoned prison and from what she saw, these vigilantes were making a beeline right for it.

Talia had wished she had known about that place. It would've made for a respectable headquarters after Wonder Tower had been destroyed. The time spent in the sewers recovering would have been bypassed.

There were other assassins out here too, but they were scattered about, adjusting their position as the group of vigilantes moved, allowing them to focus on a particular route. That was all of the protection Talia needed and they would keep themselves at bay until she called on them.

Damian, however, was not present. He had been with her when she received the first notice and had demanded to go with her. Considering everything that was going on, Talia had felt it was in their best interest if Damian sat this out. Naturally, he didn't respond well to this.

However, she was his mother and she would do as she saw fit. This Black Glove was not one to take on lightly given their tactics. They were getting under her Beloved's skin, something that was not easily done. For this, she would give them her undivided attention and she could not do that if she was keeping an eye on her child.

Also, it was a school night and he needed to be in bed.

Coming to a stop when she heard a sound, she quickly pressed herself up against the prison wall. She listened intently, over hearing chattering, soften due to distance. She listened to the voice, not quite able to make out what was being said, but she did notice when the voices began to fade away, indicating their source was moving away.

Immediately, she resumed her pace, only to slow down again, returning to the wall to minimize her visibility again. The vigilantes were beginning to slow their pace, ideally to form a strategy upon entering their destination. Again, not a bad idea.

However, they could not know she was following them. Given their proclivities and rejection of her way of doing things, it was best that they didn't know she was around. That way she could take steps to ensure the Black Glove never messed with the one she cared for. There were times for restraint and times when a tough decision was necessary and she would not allow interference.

* * *

_Where was he going or leaving or heading or escaping or…_

_Movement came to a sudden stop, the chaotic mess of a world solidifying for once. A gray, concrete room faced him, unchanging and stable. There was nothing of note but a simple wooden table that sat in front of him. As for Bruce, he was sitting in a simple wooden chair, one that didn't creak as he sat in it._

_However, that is where simplicity stopped. The clothes he wore now were garish. His torso and legs were clad in red, his arms and a utility belt around his waist were in yellow, and a blue cowl and cape rested on and over his head. It was a bizarre fashion choice that in turn contrasted with the person who sat across from him._

_This person wore only a black, long-sleeved outfit, and the only thing that really stood out was his white skin and stylized green hair. Red lips curved downwards in a disapproving frown and hands were clasped in front of the man, resting on the surface of the table._

"_Tsk, tsk," the Joker tutted. "You did this all to understand me? I'm hurt. All you had to do was ask!"_

"Don't...aid, Bruce."

_The frown turned upside down into a hauntingly familiar smile. The clown-like madman stood up, his chair screeching against the unseen floor._

"_It's reeeeal simple, Batsy. You want to know what madness is like? All it takes is a little…" Two pale hands shot out and pushed his shoulders harshly. "...PUSH!"_

"Don't...af...ce."

_He flew back and into the wall, the flat surface shattering behind him and upwards he plunged into the dark abyss. Peeking his head out from the jagged hole in reality, Joker called out some parting words._

"_Remember, it's not the fall that hurts! It's the sudden stop!"_

_Screams tore through his throat, successfully as he fell up and up and up into the brightening light at the end of the tunnel._

* * *

Zatanna twisted her face with concentration. Pursing her lips, she moved them to the left side of her face, then switched to the right as her eyes squinted, looking up to the ceiling.

It had been awhile since she had to pull out this trick, so she was a little rusty. Life had become so much more convenient when she learned magic. All she had to do was say what she wanted backwards, and poof, it was done. After tonight, she was going to have to bust out some of her father's old stage equipment and get back into practice.

Though her arms were tied to the chair she was in, she was moving them away and back from the chair as far as she could, all the while rotating her wrists in the bonding around her hands. And theeeeere went one loop, her hand moving out from underneath the rope.

She felt some more slack in her bindings and she quickly pulled her other hand out. A coil of rope dropped to the floor behind her, which she ignored. Now for the rest of her arms. The purpose of her continued wave-like motions with her arms bore fruit shortly after. Though they were tight around her upper arms and chest, the motion slowly, but surely, moved the ropes down her body, to her much thinner waist, giving her more slack.

With the additional room to move around it, Zatanna managed to slip her arms out, albeit it jerkily as her elbows kept getting caught in the coils. Once upon a time, she would've been out of the bindings in a matter of minutes, not the hours it felt like it had taken. Again, she was going to practice.

And then the ropes gave out, much of it falling to the floor while some landed in her lap. Moving her free arms, she shoved it all off of her and stood up, stepping out from the pooled rope around her chair.

Now, that was one obstacle overcome, thanks to the multitude of escape artist tricks her father had taught her. Now it was time to tackle the cell door. Since it was a prison, the lock was naturally on the other side. Stepping to the door, Zatanna reached through the bars and searched the door for the keyhole. It took her a moment, but she found it. Hmm, it was a little larger than she thought it would be.

Well, no matter, she would just pick the lock. Bringing her hands back, she held one up in front of her face as she worked at pulling her white glove off. Her father's favorite pick was stashed there and…

Zatanna frowned. Where was the pick? All she was seeing was her skin and the pickless inside of her glove. Maybe it was in the other one. Pulling the glove back on, she then switched hands, checking under that glove—aaaaand there was no pick there either.

Okay, bummer, but surely she had another one on her person. Now where did she…

The magician paused before she let out a frustrated groan. Of course, now that she thought about it, she hadn't carried a pick on her person in years. Goddamn magic and how useful it was. Now she knew her dad was giving her a reproachful look from the afterlife. She could practically hear his voice. _"You must always be prepared for every situation, Zana; you might not know what you'll come across."_

The dark-haired woman paused. Hmm, was it her imagination or had she actually heard those words? Looking around her cell and even peering through the bars as best she could to see down the corridor, she didn't find anyone around.

Very peculiar.

So now she was stuck. Perfect. Trapped in a cell where her jailers had the keys and they wouldn't be happy to see her unbound. She had to get out of here before they came back.

Picking the lock was out of the question; she didn't have the necessary tools for it. Her magic was sealed away thanks to the seals on the cell. Turning her head, she regarded the translucent seals. Frowning, she stepped towards the wall where she saw one and positioned herself so that she could see it properly.

Oh yeah, this was definitely designed to stop oral spells. Spotting another one, she angled herself to see it properly and noted that one was designed to prevent the drawing of other seals, ones she could use to get here out of here.

Undoubtedly, she expected the other seals were more of the same, or covered other avenues she could take. Whoever thought of this cell had covered everything.

That left her with just one option.

She wasn't fond of it, but it created a lot of power, and if used properly, it could get her around the rest of these safeguards. Plus, she doubted these people knew she even knew those sorts of spells.

The last time she had used it had been out of necessity. Her voice had been magically sealed away and her captors had all sorts of nasty little plans for her. While her current situation wasn't as dire, she didn't see any other option.

With a sigh, Zatanna reluctantly pulled off her left glove. Gazing forlornly at her fingers, she then glanced to the chair. As much as she didn't want to, she was going to have to cut herself on that thing and there was no telling what gross stuff was on it. She could always heal the cut and possible infection once she was done, but that didn't stop the desire not to have to do all of that to begin with.

Checking the chair, she found the wood that went into its making was poorly maintained. Parts of its surface was chipped, but there wasn't anything jagged that could possibly puncture her skin. She was just going to have to break the damn thing and see what she could make.

Picking up the chair, she held flipped it around so that she held it by the back legs. Readying herself, she then swung it into the air, slamming it against the wall, and shattering it into a hundred different pieces.

And naturally, that's when she heard a door open down the hall.

_Oh yeah, sure, come check on your prisoner while she's in the middle of an escape,_ she grumbled in her head as she immediately kneeled down and began sifting through the pile of broken wood. Finding a rather jagged pieces, she lifted it up, turning it this way and that to study it before she felt she had what she needed.

Holding it firmly in one hand, she then placed her index finger against the edge. "Well, Zee, it's time to bleed," she muttered to herself.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Jerking her head up, Zatanna stared in amazement at the sight of Jim Corrigan and Batgirl standing on the other side of the cell bars. "How did you get here?" she asked dumbly.

"Your little friend here," Corrigan spoke, placing a hand on Batgirl's shoulder, "helped me get in. Now, before you start using blood magic, why don't you let me open this cell?"

"Well, unless you have a key, I rather doubt you're going to be able to open it," the dark-haired woman returned as she stood up, still holding the broken piece of wood in her hand, though she held it at her side. "There are a crap ton of seals on the room preventing my magic."

Corrigan paused before he turned his head this way and that, studying the walls. "I believe you're correct," he agreed before he took a step back and checked out the wall so the corridor. "However, there does not appear to be any seals outside of the cell."

Then the redhead made a gesture with one hand towards the cell door. Incredibly, Zatanna heard the locking mechanism move, protesting as it did so. Positioning himself in front of the door, Corrigan grabbed onto the bars and then slid the door to one side. "Now, isn't this better than cutting yourself and making a blood seal?" he questioned her.

"Any day, every day," she immediately responded, dropping her piece of wood and hurrying out of the cell. Without breaking stride she marched down the hallway, Corrigan and Batgirl following behind her. "So I'm guessing if you two are here, so is Batman."

"He is," Corrigan answered. "He's keeping the prison's attention on him while we sprung you."

"And knowing him, he's gotten in over his head," she replied. "I think it's time for the cavalry to go save his ass, wouldn't you say?"

* * *

_Tearing through muddy soil and thickening vegetation, Bruce erupted back into Hell, surrounded by the cries of terror, the roars of anger, and the shrieks of sorrow from countless beings. Immediately vines raced to restrain him, leaving him vulnerable to sharpened blades, and grinning skulls, and fists of earth to slice, gnaw, and pummel into his helpless body._

_Bone broke, repaired, then broke once more. The sensation of his spine shattering was an agony all onto its own. The teeth were relentless, tearing into his uniform, and piercing into the flesh hidden underneath._

"_I want you to repeat after me. I must put away my Batman costume and retire from crimefighting."_

_God, he so wanted to. The pain that slashed through his armor, through his skin, down to his very soul was unrelenting. Faces flashed before his eyes, moving so quickly he could not make out anything specific about them. All he knew was that they were taunting him, torturing him, demanding that he give in and give up all hope._

"Don't...uce…"

A spike of loneliness, an instant of pure, sweet pain, trauma after trauma impaling him from all sides, with no end.

"_Zur En Arrh… Zur En Arrh!"_

_So many voices, all saying the same thing and other different things, but all towards him, always directed at him. So many eyes, so many tongues, so many...everything! No moment's peace, no moment's calm. Nothing to give a single instant to catch his breath._

"Don't...afraid…"

"_I must put away my Batman costume and retire from crimefighting."_

_Above and over all, a creature took the form of the most nondescript man he had ever seen, blank, bland eyes boring down into him. Every time he opened mouth, he chanted, or he introduced himself, or he gave an instruction or he...or he…_

"_Doctor Simon Hurt. Do come this way. The chamber is ready for you."_

_The isolation, no escape. No way to get out, but he...refused? Why? Why was this happening?_

"...be...Bruce…"

"_Advantage: evil."_

_What was he becoming? Who was he? Did it even matter? Why were the voices getting louder?_

"_I must put away my Batman costume…"_

_Why were they becoming more demanding?_

"Don't...fraid...Br…"

_Why were they becoming more…._

"_...and retire from crime-"_

_...desperate…?_

"Don't be afraid Bruce."

_Through tears, he hadn't known were blurring his vision, his eyelids slid over and cleared them somewhat, exposing an alley, dirt and grime covered, smoke and condensation rising in the air. He sat on his knees, heedless of the filth around him, sounded by two bodies as footsteps fled from the area._

_He wore a tuxedo, barely a wrinkle in them despite the life changing moment that had occurred seconds ago. A woman in a dress laid lifelessly, pearls rolling away across the asphalt. Yet, his eyes, his wide, tear-filled, child eyes were held by another pair, one belonging to an older man._

_His life was bleeding out of him, the glaze of death attempting to seep over his dimming eyes, and yet they focused on him and him alone, filled with love even as he spoke words to try and soothe him._

"_Don't be afraid Bruce," Thomas Wayne spoke, holding on to the scant seconds he had left in this world, ignoring himself in favor of comforting his heartbroken son._

"Don't be afraid."

An intake of breath…

Batman's eyes snapped opened. He gagged from the sudden inhalation of air, causing him to roughly cough. He felt so disoriented, he wasn't quite sure where he was. Those words—his father's words—continued to ring in his ears. _Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid._ It was soothing, comforting. Catching his breath, he soon got control himself and began searching his surroundings, finding himself in a very dark space.

He could barely see an inch in front of his face, yet his mind was as sharp as ever. It was all back, the torturous time in that isolation chamber and the psychological horrors it had inflicted. In spite of the mental turmoil, it had been something he had willingly inflicted upon himself. Even before he had set foot in Guam, Batman had researched the effects of isolation on the human brain and everything that entailed.

Perhaps that was why he had detected something wrong during the experiment. It had been a feeling, one that did not match up with his research, though initially dismissed. But then, he had instinctively responded, not willing to truly trust the researchers running the chamber. The vigilante had created a psychological program of his own, one keyed by something so raw in his psyche, so traumatizing that no amount of manipulation could counteract or corrupt it.

What trauma was more powerful than the one that set him on his course to becoming Batman?

With it in place, the Dark Knight had allowed Hurt to think he had gained one over him. It was all about waiting until whatever scheme the psychologist had planned came to pass. After having to deal with Hugo Strange, Batman had developed a bit of an instinctive distrust towards those who studied and practiced mental health.

And it was sloppy when Hurt had slipped up and spoken the words "advantage: evil."

That brought him to the here and now, trapped and restrained in a small box. He was going to have to rectify that. Reaching to his belt, that's when he realized it couldn't move very far. In fact, he could feel some sort of cloth wrapped around him, the metal clanking of chains alerting him to not one, but two versions of restraints. Shifting to his side, his shoulder bumped against something hard and sturdy. Frowning, he tried rolling to his other side, his other shoulder meeting with the same surface. Moving his feet, they two were bound, chains rattling, though with the toe of his boots, he could feel the same surface within touching distance.

So what was going on: as far as he knew, he was restrained with chains at a minimum and something pinning his arms across his body, his hands secured just above his hips on opposite sides. Wherever he was, it was a very small, very enclosed space. It was almost as if he were in some sort of box.

Batman took a deep breath, then slowly released it. He felt the first signs of panic, but they were quickly squashed by his calm breathing. He had expected to be in a situation like this at some point or another, though he never thought it would be years down the line. That's was alright, he was prepared.

He had John Zatara to thank for that. One of his final tests before anointing his young self an accomplished escape artist was where the magician had placed in a glass box, restrained by chains and a straight jacket. Shifting a bit more, Batman felt he was actually in a straight jacket as well, so his current situation was damn near identical to Zatara's test. The only difference was that he was lying on his back here whereas Zatanna's father had hung him upside down.

"_Observe your situation,"_ Zatara had instructed him. _"Study how you are restrained. Is there any way to obtain slack? To loosen your bonds? There is no restraint made by man that cannot be weakened, so long as you stay calm enough to find it."_

Shifting back and forth, Batman began testing how much room he had to maneuver. Whatever box he was in, there wasn't a lot of space, so that limited things somewhat. The chains were tight, but they were wrapped once...no, twice around his torso. There were more at his feet, but they could be dealt with later.

Raising up his hips and arching his back, the vigilante felt the chains slide against his body. Whoever had tied him had done a poor job with the chains. Lowering his hips back down, he then began raising and lowering them over and over, twisting and turning his upper body from side to side simultaneously. Slowly, but surely, the chains slid further and further up his body. They got stuck where his shoulders were for a few moments, but he managed to worm out of them, the chains lying limply around his neck.

Alright, now it was time for the straight jacket. While he didn't like the weight he felt on his neck, he could deal with it long enough to get out of the straight jacket, and then pull them off. Attempting to move his arms within the restraining jacket, he found he couldn't move them very far. He had expected as much.

However, the straight jacket was designed so that its captive could not pull his arms away from their body. So, logically it stood that if he couldn't move his arms away, he could go in. Squeezing his arms closer to his body, he could feel the jacket slacken slightly. Rolling to his side, he began moving one arm, attempting to pull it out of the sleeve. He only got so far before his elbow caught the material and became stuck.

Undeterred, he moved his arm back tight against his body and rolled in the opposite direction, attempting to pull the other arm out. Again, he received the same results; however, he could feel the ball of his shoulder peak out a little through the collar.

Holding his position, he used the hand that was pressed against his body to grab onto the inner lining of the straight jacket, pulling on it to better secure its placement so that he could work on worming his shoulder further against the collar. It took several seconds before his shoulder was out, nearly pressed against his cheek.

That's when he slid his arm out of the sleeve and then promptly the other. Soon, he then slid the straight jacket up his body and over his head, taking the chain around his neck with it as well. His body banged around in the box as he did so, but soon he was in the clear, balling up the straight jacket into a makeshift pillow to rest his head against.

Bending his knees, he tested to see how far he could bring his legs up and found they couldn't go so very far without banging up against the ceiling. He'd just wait to untie his feet then. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a flashlight and turned it on.

Immediately, he was greeted with the sight of a panel of wood mere inches from his face. Looking to his sides and at his feet, he discovered he was indeed in a box—a coffin was a better description. Reaching a hand up to his gauntlet, he hit a button and the lens of his cowl went green, activating his night vision.

His sight took on a greenish tint, but this allowed him better vision, at least until he got out of this tight place. Again moving his hand, Batman placed it on the panel above him, pushing against it.

It was solid feeling, not to mention a bit heavy. That's when he began rapping his knuckles against it, knocking at various places along the panel until he noticed a difference in sound. Knocking on the same spot, and then another, then back, he was satisfied that he found a weak point in the wood.

That's when he noticed something odd. Though he had his night vision on, the edges of his sight blurred a little. Squinting his eyes slightly, the blurring disappeared.

That was strange. Batman hadn't encountered that before. Searching the enclosed space, he didn't see any sign of gas, or anything remotely mind altering with him. Ignoring the occurrence, Batman then moved his flashlight to his other hand while he made a fist with the previous one. Holding it by his hip, he then shot it forward, slamming it up against the wood. No damage appeared, but that didn't deter him in the least. Over and over, he punched the same spot, bringing his fist back only to shoot it forward again.

There was no telling how long he went at this. Eventually though, he noticed the blurriness in his vision again coupled with some lightheadedness. Shaking his head, he rid himself of those feelings, continuing to punch. The next time it happened, the lightheadedness even stronger, he paused.

That's when it occurred to him there was a gas in his box with him, one that was becoming more and more prevalent with every breath he took. This box was airtight, so that limited how much oxygen was in here with him. Every breath expelled carbon dioxide, which was slowly asphyxiating him.

Damn it, he needed out! Despite that feeling, he continued with his pounding at the same rate. Panicking would only make matters worse. Now that he recognized the problem, he just needed to slow his breathing; that might buy him another couple of minutes.

Punch after punch he threw, and he could feel his knuckles protesting each hit. And still he hit the surface. He would not stop; could not stop. To stop was death and he refused to die here.

And then he heard a snap. Stopping for a moment, he saw a crack forming in the wood-excellent. Punching again and again, the crack grew wider and wider, the wood weakening against his barrage.

That as when something seeped through the crack, again causing him to stop. Reaching to his chest, he felt some granules there, picking a small clump up and holding it in front of his face. He studied it, trying to figure it out, noting how much it looked like dirt…

Oh...goddamn it. He _was_ in a coffin. A coffin that was under who knows how much feet of dirt.

He had been buried alive.

Batman bared his teeth even as his hand began to tremble with rage. That was the only expression of emotion he showed. Any more and he'd doom himself and like hell would he allow himself to be discarded this way. With added fervor, he punched at the crack in the wood, causing more and more dirt to fall through, landing on his chest and face.

Soon, the crack was large enough that he could slide a finger into it. Lying his flashlight down next to him, he then placed both of his hands on either side of the crack, pressing his fingertips into it.

Then with all of his strength, he pulled at the edges.

It was slow, but the crack widened, which then promptly dumped water-logged dirt all over him. Batman jerked his head from the incoming avalanche, taking a deep breath before he threw himself into the soil, forcing himself upwards.

It was like fighting a river upstream. The moist dirt pushed him back as he clawed his way up. He couldn't kick his legs since they were still bound, so that left him with moving his arms as fast as he could, forcing his way upward. His lungs began to burn, protesting the lack of air, but he dared not breathe and force dirt into his lungs.

It felt endless. No matter how far he moved, it was like there was another layer of soil in front of him. While it was loose thanks to it being recently dug up, that just caused more and more of it to rush towards him as it filled the vacuum created by the opening in the coffin. He swiped, clawed, and climbed as best as he could, the blurriness at the edges of his eyes growing bigger now until that was all he could see.

And then he felt nothing. No dirt, no rocks, just...air! He had reached the top! Flexing his wrist back and forth, his palm soon pressed down on top of soil, then promptly sank in it. _No! _The soil was too damn loose! He tried to use that free hand to help pull himself upward even as he frantically tried to burrow his other hand up to join it.

Too much time had gone by and there was just too much dirt. His strength began to fail him, his muscles crying out for oxygen that his lungs just simply could not provide him. Slowly, his body began to go limp until he just hung there, entombed by dirt, unable to move, forever suspended in his outstretched pose. His hand on the surface began to slowly relax. The blurriness grew worse and then right at the center of his vision a pinpoint of darkness appeared. It grew bigger and bigger from that point until it was all he could see.

And then he fell into darkness.


	30. Advantage: Good

Advantage: Good

_It was with a sharp gasp that Bruce awoke. Flinging himself up, he felt sticky from sweat as he panted heavily. He felt as if he had been lying face down in a pool for too long, only just now being able to take a breath._

_His bedsheets were tangled about his legs, a minor annoyance he ignored. His naked chest rose and fell with every breath he took. _What a nightmare,_ he groused staring at the far wall, ignoring the decor that hung from it._

_Had that really happened? Had he fought his way through a prison, only for his best friend to stab him in the back and shatter his mind? Remnants of that strange dream plagued him, but with every passing second he could barely recall what he had experienced. There had been a lot of falling, and nothing seemed to connect all that well. He did recall being buried alive though. That was still skin-crawlingly creepy._

_Except...he could have sworn that last part was real…._

_The curtains to his room were thrown open then, causing the young man to jerk his head towards them. An intense white light poured through the window, broken only by the thin fingers standing in front of them, his back to the dark-haired man._

_Then with an about-face, an old man turned to face him. "Good Morning, Master Bruce," he greeted him._

"_Alfred," Bruce said with relief. "I had the craziest dream."_

"_Quite expected, young sir. It's not every day a man digs himself out of his own grave."_

_Bruce frowned. "How did you…?"_

_The look Alfred gave him caused a rush of memories to come into focus. That...that hadn't been a dream. He had been buried and failed to dig himself out. He had fought with his friend...Hush, in a prison shower room. He had lost and reclaimed his family company from the same man in brutal fashion. And he had yet to recover-_

"_It has been quite some time, Master Bruce," the butler interrupted his rush of thought. "Perhaps this time we can actually talk, you and I."_

"_Alfred, what's going on here?" the young man asked. He glanced around his bedroom, though he found it hard to focus on any one thing outside of his old friend. And the light from the window seemed to be glowing brighter. "Why am I in my bedroom? Why are you here? What is-?"_

"_All in good time, Sir," Alfred once again stopped him. "I hope this place is somewhat familiar to you. Admittedly I thought you would find yourself here a few more times since that Owlman fellow ran his sword through your chest, but I have been pleasantly surprised."_

_Owlman? What did he have to do...and then it hit him. Right before the Court of Owls had given the order for the Talons to attack Gotham, he had encountered their top assassin, who would later reveal himself to be David Cain, Cassandra's father. He had stabbed him in the chest and he had barely escaped, being revived shortly after due to a chance encounter with Bluebird, then Harper Row. He had experienced a dream-like sequence in this very room, where Alfred was urging him to get out of bed._

"_I see you've finally caught up," the older man surmised. "Good, perhaps now we can talk. We weren't able to the last time."_

"_That's because you were more content to uttering innuendos than straight up talking," Bruce pointed out._

"_It's a sign of how close you were to death. That we're able to converse means you're closer still." With a hand, he gestured to the window. "That light is exactly what you would expect it to be."_

_The light at the end of the tunnel. "So you're my Charon, ready to carry me over?"_

"_To the contrary; like the last time, I am here to keep you amongst the living."_

_Alfred then took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping his head and upper body turned to Bruce. "I've been keeping an eye on you for a long time, Master Bruce. It started with your cries throughout the manor and on through adulthood to now."_

"_But you were killed, Alfred," he protested._

"_And I have continued my duty in the beyond. I cannot say I have not been disappointed with some of your choices, young man."_

_Here he was, sitting on the brink of death, and the old coot wanted to lecture him? Oh yeah, this was Alfred alright. "Another lecture, Alfred?" he asked, raising an eyebrow._

"_I only lecture you because it is the only thing that gets through that bloody skull of yours, Sir," the older man countered coolly._

"_Fine, let's get this over with."_

_Alfred watched him with a critical eye. Then, "Very well. You need to let go of the past. You're allowing it to destroy your future."_

"_Care to be any less vague?"_

"_Alright, you're allowing my freshly dug-up corpse to distract you from what's really important: the young miss you've taken in. She is infinitely more important than a box full of rotting bones."_

_Bruce sharply jerked his head to look at the butler. How did…? There was no way he could know of Cassandra. She wasn't even a part of their household upon his death. The look Alfred leveled him with clearly told him he knew all._

_This _really _was Alfred._

"_Alfred, Elliot took your body. I don't know why, but I can't just let him desecrate you," he defended._

"_What excuse do you have for ignoring Wayne Enterprises then? If it wasn't for Fox, it would still be out of your hands."_

_Well, he had him there. Alfred then leaned towards him, placing a hand gently on his. "I know this past year has been rough on you. In fact, it has created a strain in your relationship with the girl you've taken in. But if she is what you say she is to you, you need to make a more concerted effort to mend that fence. I cannot say it was the wrong choice to allow her to branch out on her own, but your handling of the situation is, mind my language, utter bollocks."_

"_Then what do you suggest I do?"_

"_You already know what you must do. You're a smart man and this isn't too difficult." He paused for a moment. "Though you are going up against a teenage girl." Another pause. "Tread carefully."_

"_Thanks, I never would have thought of that," Bruce grunted._

"_You're welcome, Master Bruce."_

_Bruce stared at the older man. Then he sighed. "How can you expect me to let you go? You were an important part in my life—not to mention what I allowed to happen to you."_

"_Master Bruce, I have supported you no matter what choice you made. My death was the only way it could happen taking in the circumstances. I made the choice to come to your rescue and I ensured that you made it out of that shooting gallery. I do not hold what happened against you and you shouldn't either."_

_That actually made the younger man feel better. It wasn't a weight being lifted off his shoulders or anything, but it was still comforting. "So, I should just let your bones go?"_

"_Absolutely. You have a daughter to raise and now a company to actually pay attention to. If you're going to leave that legacy, then you need to pull yourself out of your consuming nightlife and handle your business. Otherwise someone else will do the same and you won't have Fox around to help you out. You also have those other vigilantes helping in the protection of Gotham. Learn to rely on them more."_

_There was another moment of silence. "Since you seem to know what's going on, any ideas on Talia and Damian?"_

"_You already know what you want to do there. I highly suggest you stop stalling on that one."_

_A smile tugged at Bruce's mouth. "It's so good to see you again, Alfred."_

_Alfred returned the smile. "It is the same for me, Sir. However, let's not make this a habit. I rather not have to keep you wandering over every couple of months just because you wish to visit."_

"_Of course. So now what? Do I have to wake up like last time?"_

"_Nothing of the sort." Alfred then raised a hand up, holding it between the two. "Just take my hand."_

"_That's it?"_

"_Would you rather go into the light? I could throw you through the window if you wish."_

_Bruce chuckled before he shook his head. "Alright, old man, have it your way." He then reached out with his hand._

Their hands clasped together, surprisingly cold in spite _of the warm in the room. "Take care of yourself, Master Bruce," Alfred bade him goodbye._

"_I will, old friend, I will."_

He felt his arm being pulled.

_The black butler suit Alfred wore seemed to lose its form, an inky blackness beginning to swallow up his vision, soon only leaving the old man's head. Then it too faded into darkness._

He felt the pulling of his arm, his hand instinctively squeezing down on the hand grabbing onto his. What felt like another hand then grabbed onto his forearm, the pulling sensation growing stronger. Stiffening the muscles in his arm, he pulled, feeling his body sliding upward. Dirt slid all around him.

And then his head emerged into air. Immediately, Batman sucked in air desperately. As he gasped, he saw Commissioner Gordon standing before him, his hand in the vigilante's, and the other grabbing hold of his forearm. His face was strained and red, but he continued to pull.

"C'mon, you heavy bastard," Gordon grunted as he leaned backwards.

That's when Batman's other arm slid out of the dirt and he immediately put it to work, pressing down on the disturbed soil. Suddenly, he surged forward, practically sliding out of the grave. Gordon lost his balance as he stumbled backwards, still holding onto the dark-clad man's hand and arm. The white-haired man soon fell backwards, landing hard on his back.

The two men gasped, panting over and over. "You do...like to make...dramatic entrances," the Commissioner quipped.

Batman didn't bother responding, only continuing to catch his breath. He didn't even notice a rush of movement, not until he felt a hand press against the side of his face and force him to look to one side. Kneeling next to him was Batgirl, her concern showing itself even through her mask. When had she gotten here? When had Gordon?

"I'm okay," he murmured to the girl, if only to relieve her. He wasn't sure if he succeeded, though he did raise a hand and placed it on the back of her head.

"So, you mind telling me why you allowed yourself to be buried alive?" Gordon asked him, the other man shifting himself to sit on his backside, legs bent at the knees as he rested his arms on top of them. Behind him, a few figures approached. Looking to them, Batman saw Bullock, Renee Montoya, and Maggie Sawyer coming to stand before the police commissioner. The women had their handguns in hand, though they were pointed to the ground. Bullock, on the other hand, had a shotgun, which he held up and rested the barrel against his shoulder.

"I got in over my head," he admitted.

"Yeah, literally," Bullock remarked.

Batman allowed that comment to pass by. "What are you doing here?" he then questioned.

"Our jobs," Gordon replied succinctly. "There's been a lot of strange things happening here at Stonegate—you can thank Sarah for figuring that out. I know the man that killed her is here and I'm going to do everything in my power to bring him in and make him pay for that."

Immediately, Batman stiffened. "No, you can't." He began to stand up, Batgirl instinctively moving so that she could help him up as well as let him lean on her for support. One of his arms fell over her shoulders and she wrapped one of hers around his back, raising her other hand to take a hold of his forearm. Dirt that clung to his armor fell off in small clumps. "Hush is too much."

Gordon was on his feet immediately. "Don't you dare tell me to let that bastard go," he growled lowly.

"I'm not saying that. _I'll_ get him. I promise you, he won't get away."

"Your grave begs to differ," Bullock pointed out snidely.

Batman looked to the police lieutenant, only to realize they weren't all alone. This little prison courtyard was filled with people. Further back and to the left, he saw the Birds of Prey with Huntress standing there, watching him intently. A little off to their left was the Batclan, Bluebird and Spoiler keeping just behind Nightwing. To the right of the cops was—the vigilante stifled a growl—Red Robin and his superpowered friends. He could see wide eyes from the teenagers, especially Cyborg and the green one. And then, further away to the back, there was Talia.

Frowning, Batman then turned his head to look to Batgirl, but then saw over her head the last two people of this gathering. Zatanna—thank God—was a short distance away, looking as if she had hurried over here only to stop where she was. Further back was Corrigan, his hands in his pockets watching coolly.

It seemed everyone _was _here.

Returning his attention to Gordon, he then said, "This isn't your fight. I can't let anyone else get hurt because of this."

"Uhh, now that's bullshit." Huntress had moved then, coming to stand a short distance to the left of Bullock. "This may have started because of you, but it involves all of us now," she said pointedly. "We all didn't just show up just for you to turn us back around."

"For once, me and the goofy dame agree," Bullock added. He then moved the barrel of his shotgun off his shoulder, swinging it down in front of him until he rested it in the palm of his free hand. "These guys need to know if you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us."

Gordon then took a step towards him, raising a hand up and placing on the Dark Knight's shoulder. "Whoever this Hush guy is, he didn't come alone. He has an army with him; so why shouldn't we bring our own?"

Batman glanced to all the faces around him. Then he looked to Batgirl, who was looking expectantly up at him. "Is that how you all feel?" he finally asked he looked back up.

He received many affirmations, including a nod from Talia and loud rejoinders from the teenage metas. "We hit them hard and fast," he then said. "I don't care how you do it, but I want every single one of them eating pavement. I'll handle Hush and the puppetmaster of the Black Glove. Everyone else is yours."

* * *

Hush rolled the small, white ball between his fingers, the same one that Hurt had tossed into the roulette dish earlier that night. His thoughts were of his own as he waited there in the decadently decorated room that had once been a communal area for the prisoners kept in this decrepit place.

While he stood, his posture had him bent over the large table, prepared for an impending course that would more than likely take up time before the Black Glove continued with their planned event. Years of being indoctrinated with hosting and dining etiquette informed the former billionaire that dessert was the next course, possibly some after dinner coffee or tea to follow.

He barely moved even as he heard the approaching footsteps of Hurt and his party returning to continue their lavish feast. Parasites, the whole lot of them. None of them truly knew sacrifice, only how to maintain what was handed down to them through inheritance or sheer dumb luck.

"Still here, Hush?" Hurt questioned. "After your marvelous performance tonight, I would have assumed you would have quit for the night, returned to Gotham to continue dismantling the Wayne legacy, or, what was it, 'tear Gotham down?' You're free to go; your part's over after all."

Hush tossed the ball into the roulette wheel, watching it roll around and around until it came to a stop at red 56. "I was thinking," he began to reply, finally moving his eyes away from the wheel to make contact with Hurt, "before I begin all that, that I would place a wager of my own. In the spirit of this night."

Behind that masquerade mask, Hurt's eyes narrowed. "As I said, your part is over. The rules of the Black Glove are clear about this; you can only bet as a _member_, of which you are not. A glove only has room for _five_ fingers and no more."

Hush snorted, amused at such juvenile reasoning. "Fun fact, doctor: the human hand only has _four_ fingers. The thumb is in a league all of its own. That's basic anatomy."

"Which has absolutely no bearing on the matter," Hurt cut in. "Do leave while I am feeling magnanimous. My guests still seek entertainment, but not your kind."

"Don't forget, once I was as rich as any of your 'guests' you have here tonight," the bandage-wearing man retorted, standing up straight. "At my peak, I was one of the richest men in the world." He moved around the table, drawing closer to Hurt, and closer to the Black Glove high rollers who watched him, not impressed with the sight of him in his trenchcoat. "But in the end, I was replaceable in spite of it all. Just like them."

Without a second's hesitation, he whipped out a gun and fired it straight into the forehead of the general. The man's military-styled hat fell off his head, and was soon followed by the rest of him, crumpling to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The other high rollers looked shocked and horrified, none of them prepared for the possibility of harm visiting any of them.

"The sad truth in this world is that money and wealth can't protect you," Hush he pointed his firearm's barrel up at the ceiling. "Now, I see you are missing a finger. I would like to place my bet now, unless I need to cut off another finger so I may take that one's place."

"My husband!" a woman in low-cut, blue dressing gown exclaimed, a dainty hand pressed to her chest. "He can't do this!" she wailed, looking beseechingly at the bad doctor. "You promised that we would be safe here!"

Slamming a hand down on the table, Hush directed all attention back onto him. Beneath his bandages, a bloodthirsty grin parted his lips, and his eyes flared menacingly. "Here's my bet. I wager that none of you know what you're dealing with here. I bet that Batman breaks himself out of that coffin, digs himself out of that grave, his mind intact, and then hunts you all down like the animals you truly are. Remember, there used to be a bunch of wealthy individuals in this city who called themselves the Court of Owls, and he hunted them all down. He has no jurisdiction, he _will_ find you, and then drag you all into the light, kicking and screaming like the cowardly and spoiled infants you truly are."

Approaching Hurt, ignoring the conditioning that made him wary of this man, Hush taunted, "You say you _know_ him? Perhaps, but I _understand_ him. You know him like he's a fact, but I understand the concept of Batman. I understand the kind of man he is. While I was in Gotham, watching his every move, studying and observing his growth as he became more than just some suited up rich kid on a one-man crusade with some nice toys, you hid yourself away, pampering these insipid nobodies as you prepared this grand game believing you had all the pieces stacked in your favor.

"But did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, he already knew what you were up to and played along?"

Hurt looked affronted, as if someone questioning his very intelligence was an unforgivable sin. "A fancy little fantasy of yours," he mocked back. "Do you think so little of my methods that a temper tantrum throwing brat like him was able to detect my manipulations and willingly played along to his doom?"

"What better way to catch your enemy off guard than to make him think he's winning?" Hush sneered back just as the lights shut off, engulfing everything into darkness. The timing had been perfect, backing up the bandaged man's claim. "Well, looks like it's starting." Then, he couldn't resist adding, "And someone is six steps behind."

There was a hiss and soon a small sliver of light returned except in the form of a flare, one held in Hurt's gloved hand. He did not look panicked, but he did appear serious, extremely serious. Gone was any signs of good humor or arrogance.

"Hurt, what is going on?" demanded the priest. While the holy man sounded enraged, you could hear his fear all too easily.

"It's simple, Father. You're trapped. Trapped in your own trap," Hush remarked, his tone indulgent. "No matter how hard anyone tries, believe me, you can never prepare for the unexpected. Brace yourself? Yes, and it looks like the one who did isn't any of you."

If there had been any fight left in the priest, it vanished as quickly as it came, the frightened man turning to their host. "Dr. Hurt, you have to get us out of here! This can't be happening!"

By now, Hurt's facial features had become a pronounced frown, one that seemed to take a lot of effort for the man to make. "Oh, but you _chose_ to be here," Hurt stated dully, and the sarcasm dripped off his words. "All of you, you high and mighty rollers….it seems your sins have found you all out."

Hush didn't hide the snort. Even as he was losing control, Hurt would not take responsibility. It figured.

As he moved the flare about—it was obvious the bad doctor was planning on escaping this mess—Hurt continued blithelessly, "You hear that sound? That's the sound of the doors locking. Stonegate Prison...is no longer under our control."

Could he sound anymore listless?

While muted, the light of the flare fell upon something—no, someone. Like a wraith, or a demonic being, the glowering, white lens eyes that belonged to none other than Batman glared at them all, causing more than one gasp of terror from the gamblers.

Hush readied his guns, already knowing what was about to happen. Looks like his wager was on the money.

The Dark Knight stared down his latest adversary, showing no signs of being impressed at what he saw. After everything he had endured this night, there were no signs that he was tired, or exhausted, or even that a toll had been taken on him. Was it for show, or was he truly in one hundred percent condition? Around them all, surrounding the vigilante, the 99 Fiends got ready for battle.

To show that he was in no way intimidated, Batman uttered only two words.

"Advantage: Good."

The lights flashed on, getting more than one cry of surprise, and with it charged in others, other vigilantes and plains clothed cops with guns, all charging at the gathering of decadent wealth and bloody Fiends. A dark-clad fist nailed Hurt squarely in the face, throwing him easily onto the table, the doctor's body sliding against the tablecloth, knocking off the roulette wheel, and falling off the opposite side.

As Hush's eyes made contact with his old, former friend, they both knew what they were about to do. As if reading his mind, Batman said four more words.

"Ready when you are."

* * *

The lights were a nice touch, Gordon mused to himself, then he got down to business. Their cover was over now, and the force of variously dressed, justice-seeking do-gooders were launching their offensive.

On the other side, men and some women, most in some kind of leather outfits, others in garments resembling bikers, as well as some oddly-costumed individuals met them. Weapons of all shapes and sizes, from brass knuckles, knives, to staffs, crossbows, electrictrified batons, throwing projectiles, you name it, clashed with one another, and that wasn't counting the blasts of laser beams and armored fists and a mountain lion.

They had come packing and ready for a war.

Immediately, Gordon spotted Sarah's killer. He would never forget the bandages wrapped around that head, or that brown-colored trench coat, or that ready stance as the murderer stood opposite to the Batman. And then vigilante launched himself at the bastard, the criminal raising up to guns in preparation of firing them.

The commissioner's longtime ally was more than ready for it and then the two of them were lost in the crowd. As much as he wanted to be the one to take that evil man down, logic informed him it was not to be. Also, there were other people here that needed to be dealt with.

He had noticed a group of individuals, none of them dressed like any of the combatants. A hard look revealed that there was no way these people were random bystanders. Many were too nicely dressed, stood around one another with familiarity, and some wore masks around their eyes. At best they were accessories, at worst conspirators.

They would be going down with the rest of them.

As the fighting began in earnest, these well-dressed players were taking their leave, walking calmly and unhurriedly. They were not concerned with being caught for whatever reason.

If they thought they were good at sneaking away, they were sorely mistaken. It had taken one shared look with his direct subordinates to learn they too saw that departing group. In the same look, the next course of action was decided.

All at once, the sounds of fighting were recognized by the commissioner. The yells and cries of the ridiculously dressed criminals as they ran towards them and were pounced on by their equally ridiculously dressed allies were loud and deafening. Keeping low, Gordon slipped his way through the mob of violence, threw a punch here, a pistol whipping there, and an occasional discharge of gunfire when needed.

As officers, they were trained to aim for the torso, consequences be damned so long as the threat was neutralized quickly and efficiently. There may have been other firearms in here, but so far no one—oh, hold on, he could hear someone with an automatic weapon. Where they were, it was hard to say, but any concern was short lived as there was a loud scream with the abrupt end of the gunfire.

Breaking through, it was a quick dash before coming up behind the fleeing individuals, and naturally, Gordon had to alert them. "Freeze! You're all under arrest! Get down on your knees with your hands behind your heads!"

It was a first that he was ignored in spite of giving such a command. A couple looked over their shoulders at him, but snorted or sneered and continued walking. The commissioner was not in the mood to tolerate such disrespect. Spotting Sawyer from the corner of his eye, he ordered, "Sawyer, give them a warning shot."

Sawyer did so without hesitation, and it spoke that she had been in this city long enough because her shot clipped the shoulder of a businessman who yelp in shock and surprise.

That stopped the rest of them who stared at their associate in alarm. That gave all the opening Bullock and Montoya needed to close in. Montoya took a more controlled approach, moving around the group to cut off their escape and keeping her weapon in the sights of everyone, aimed directly at them.

Bullock was more direct, using the side of his shotgun to deck a porty man wearing a cowboy hat in the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. A lit cigar was flung away to some dark corner.

"You heard the commissioner. On your knees, hands behind heads, or we're gonna get rough," Bullock growled as he level the barrel of his shotgun at the assorted group.

From the floor, the fallen cowboy hat-wearing man glared and spat, "Do you know who I am?"

Bullock barely glanced at the man as he shoved the shotgun's barrel right into the no longer self-righteous man's face. "Should my double-barrel shotgun care?"

Cowboy man was suddenly very humble.

"You cannot do this!" exclaimed a man in a priest's smock.

"You're at the scene of a crime. We have every right," Montoya retorted. "The only choice you have is whether or not we get rough."

"We've had a long day. Please choose rough," Sawyer added.

"Until we all get this sorted, each and everyone of you is considered an accessory," Gordon picked up as he took a step closer. "And take a second to remember where you lot are. You're in a prison, in Gotham City. No one blinks at excessive force here."

* * *

Normally, Red Robin would hold back, let his opponent come to him, and then strike out. Not this time. He had had a lot of stress, did not need to see anymore disapproving looks, and really needed to work some of it out. These guys seemed like good targets to destress on.

The masked teen found himself facing off with a guy holding two knives, the goon scraping the blades' edges against one another, as if that made him look intimidating and cool. Red Robin didn't really care, running the electric current through his cape and bringing it up as a shield. Naturally, knife guy tried to stab at him, and the young vigilante smirked when the knife blades snapped off after hitting against the much harder cape.

Looked like those were some cheap ass knives. Leaping up, the teen swung a leg and landed a vicious kick to the side of the poser's head, using the blow to send himself into a spin and land a second kick into another goon's face. Mmm, that felt like a nose giving way under his boot.

Deactivating the cape and beginning his descent back to the floor, Red Robin threw out a couple birdarangs, no internal groan this time, and watched with satisfaction as the throwing projectiles nailed a bat-wielding asshat in his hand, getting a cry from him, and smacked a doll-like, mask-wearing woman right in the mask, getting a nice spiderweb of cracks in reward.

Someone tried to come up behind him, by Cyborg intercepted with a nice punch to that moron's face. Red Robin didn't see any of it, only heard the meaty thwack on metal sound. Cyborg, though, was going to town, using what looked like some running back skills to barrel his way through the masses.

Hilariously, a guy with a wooden bat, rusty nails sticking out of the end of it, tried to use his weapon on the metal teen. The bat didn't stand a chance, snapping into not two but three different pieces. Cyborg gave the idiot a disappointed glare, raising up one foot, and landed a solid kick into the guy's torso. And off he went, skidding against the floor where he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Nearby, a green shapeshifter faced off with a very large, biker guy who happened to have a really impressive looking beer gut and a pair of brass knuckles. Why he thought wearing a chest-revealing vest and no shirt was a good fashion escaped Beast Boy, but then again, the changeling was not the thinking type in the first place. He was more the doing type.

With a thought and some concentration, he shifted into a kangaroo, making a show of punching out with the small, quick-moving arms. That got a laugh from biker man who looked at his buddies with a sneer, like he was saying "look at this!" With a literal hop, the green-colored kangaroo leapt forward, leaning backwards to land and balance on a stronger-than-it-looked tail, and kicked forward with some strong kangaroo legs.

Biker guys didn't stand a chance, and neither did the guys behind him as he was sent barreling backwards like a human-shaped bowling ball. Down they went and that was a touchdown, right? Bowling had touchdowns, didn't it? Whatever, he hopped back onto his kangaroo feet, then jumped up and did a spin, swinging his thick tail about the smacking anybody who didn't duck in the face. One of those guys was knocked back into Cyborg who picked him up and threw him over the crowd of leather-wearing geeks to vanish behind them all.

"Okay, anybody see anyone important?" the cyborg teen called out as he deflected a metal pipe with his arm, the pipe bending out of shape. A backhand was his response to the pathetic attack.

Red Robin did a quick look about. "Not yet, but you asked, it's only a matter of time!" The masked teen jerked his head to aside, dodging a punch. Slipping his arm around the meaty one that hovering a couple inches to the side of his head, the teen vigilante captured the limb and then sent a sharp jab into a vulnerable looking stomach. That would be followed up with another jab, though this time in the ribs.

"I hope so!" Beast Boy called out, shifting to a donkey and giving a guy a nice looking imprint of a donkey hoof in his cheek. "I don't want to deal with scrubs all night! And—whoa!" The shapeshifted reared his head back as some jerk tried to slash at his throat with a machete. In response, the green teen shifted into a bighorn sheep and rammed into the asshole. "Like I was saying! I got a score to deal with that Jack creep!"

"Don't take your eyes off these guys!" Red Robin called out, even as he placed his hands on one guy's shoulders and pushed himself up, bringing both of his knees into the man's face. "They get annoying if you let them swarm!"

"I hate it when they do that!" Cyborg agreed, holding up an arm that found itself being wrapped in chains. Rolling his eye, he gave a harsh tug, one that had the guy holding the other end of the chain flying towards the large cyborg. A love tap of a punch was used to introduce the ass to unconsciousness.

As he landed back down on his feet, Red Robin crouched low, searching for his next target. He wasn't without choice as he and the other two were surrounded by these guys. Who to go after? Who had the best opening he could take advantage of?

He sensed more than saw movement behind him, but he reacted nonetheless. He spun on his heel, already swinging a leg high. Immediately he was making small, yet quick, adjustments so that his kick got the creep instead of Spoiler who ducked under him. While his foot made contact with a thin, almost skull-like head, the hooded vigilante took his former place, and as the masked teen regained his footing, he found himself back-to-back with the girl.

"How many of these guys are there?" Spoiler huffed, and he could hear heavy breathing from her. Let it also be known that he too was breathing a little heavier, but it was all from exertion.

"Commissioner Gordon said they brought an army. Did you think it was a figure of speech?" Red Robin quipped back. "This'll be just like North Gotham. Watch my back, I'll watch yours, keep fighting until they're all down."

If he was expecting a complaint or some kind of grumbling, in that respect he was disappointed. "I get it," was what the cape-wearing blonde teen responded as she took a step forward, slipping around the arm of some skinhead-looking guy who was wearing a pair of brass knuckles. She wrapped her arms around the extended limb and then seemed to go down then up, lifting and throwing the guy over herself.

That made Red Robin have to duck under the body, and he took a second to pick up a booted foot and strike it into the bald man's face. This all happened in about a few seconds' time, but it felt longer. Maybe they were getting in the zone or syncing up.

Without another word—and internal groan—he threw another birdarang, one that when it detonated unleashed a bright light that blinded anyone remotely looking in its direction. There, multiple openings and a chance to dish out a lot of pain.

"Take'em down!" he crowed as he launched himself at guy who was covering his pained eyes.

And this was just the start of a long night.

* * *

It was rather absurd the number of enemies there were in this room. Talia had heard of these 99 Fiends through her research, but their sheer numbers were a little much.

At the very least, they weren't competent fighters, so they most likely got by through sheer numbers alone. Case in point: one such Fiend was running at her, a wooden club held over their head as they screamed wildly.

The moment he swung the club down at her head, Talia sidestepped the weapon, hearing it hit the floor were a crack. Quick as a viper, the dark-haired woman moved a hand up to her chest then shot out with it, delivering a chop to the thug's throat. Immediately, they gagged, letting go of the club as they clutched at their neck.

Bringing her hand back, she then stepped right next to their side, bringing a leg up to kick at their foot, knocking it out from underneath them and causing them to stumble forward. In mid-stumble, Talia landed another chop to the back of their skull, knocking them out cold before they even collapsed to the floor.

Another Fiend went flying by several feet away, having been hurled through the air by one of the other vigilantes. A girl in red armor flew after the airborne Fiend, something Talia raised an eyebrow at, but discarded as nothing but a distraction.

That's when an alarm went off in Talia's head causing her to duck into a crouched pose. A person flew over her head, but unlike the Fiend earlier, this one was clearly intentional. A figure in light blue sailed overhead, a leg extended out as they performed a flying kick. Turning her head, Talia watched the person—a woman—land a short distance away, her back towards her, but that was quickly rectified as she turned to face her.

If Talia wasn't mistaken, this was the assassin called Scorpiana. Her current dress and the odd scorpion headgear indicated as much. "Nice dodge," the woman mocked her. "Let's see if you can dodge again."

Launching herself at the dark-haired woman, Scorpiana went for another kick, placing her weight on one leg as she thrust her foot for her midsection. Talia slid to one side, raising an arm up as her forearm blocked the kick, preventing it from changing direction on her. Undeterred, Scorpiana drew her leg back before kicking it out again, Talia blocking this as well.

Then the assassin sprung off the floor with her grounded leg, swinging it through the air as she aimed for her head. Talia ducked to avoid the kick, leaving the assassin spinning in midair. It would have been the perfect time to counter, but Talia found herself back up a step to avoid that tail appendage whipping through the air from behind Scorpiana's head. Quickly, the dark-haired woman backed away a few steps, keeping her arms up in a defensive stance.

Scorpiana landed on the floor a moment later, lunging at her without hesitation. This time she led with a fist, one that Talia blocked and immediately countered, throwing her own punch. Immediately, the woman jerked her head backwards, which caused the fist to pass just by her face and over her shoulder. Angling her extended arm to one side, Talia then swung her arm outward, attempting a backhand blow. She almost hit the assassin, who leaned further back to avoid the hit.

And then Talia raised a leg up and kicked out with it, landing a kick to Scorpiana's gut, causing her to double over. Even as she drew back her extended arm, Talia had her other fist ready at her side. In an instant, she slammed her fist into Scorpiana's face, snapping it to one side as she went stumbling away.

Regaining her balance, the assassin quickly straightened herself out, though she held a hand to her face. There was a scowl on the woman's face. "So you do know how to fight," she growled.

"And you do not," Talia countered coolly. "That is a shortcoming for an assassin—a very deadly one."

"What would you know?" Scorpiana spat back, her hand jerking away to reveal a smear of blood right by her mouth, undoubtedly a trickle that was poorly cleaned by the woman.

"Because I _am_ an assassin." At this, Talia strolled to the other one, not even bothering to approach with a guard. Scorpiana, in turn, assumed one, not that it would help her. Drawing a fist back, she saw Scorpiana focus her attention on it, which left her blind to the foot Talia raised and deliberately stomped down on the costumed woman's own foot.

Immediately, Scorpriana pulled her leg back, hissing as she glanced down. This left her open for the punch Talia landed again to her face, which was quickly followed up with a palm strike just beneath her chin. Her head snapped backwards, leaving her completely open for what came next.

As she pulled her fist back, her open palm next, she bent her arm at the elbow and lunged forward, ramming her elbow right into Scorpriana's face as she began to lean forward. Talia could feel the woman's nose give from the blow as blood began to flow out of her nostrils. Because her lunged at physically brought her close to the assassin, Talia then slid a foot to the outside of Scorpiana's own foot, then kicked it, knocking it out and causing the woman to teeter over. Unbending her arm, she swung it outward and nailed a backhand blow across Scorpiana's face, sending her collapsing to the ground.

Now this was disappointing. Talia had expected much better assassins than this. Instead she was given a low-rate goon.

Reaching to her sidearm, Talia pulled it out and pointed it at the fallen Scorpiana, who was lying on the floor, a hand pressed to her face, not even paying her any attention. That was an unacceptable position for any assassin, and this one would pay for it with her life.

At least, that's what she intended to do had something not collided with her hand. Talia couldn't help the yelp as she jerked her hand back, her gun sent clattering across the floor, disappearing into the surrounding mob.

That's when a vigilante, the Black Canary suddenly forced herself between the two women, her eyes boring holes into Talia. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"What does it look like?" Talia replied, casually waving her hand back and forth to rid herself of the pain she felt.

"It looked like you were about to shoot Scorpiana."

"Then it was precisely what it looked like."

"You heard Batman—no killing. We're taking everyone in and that includes her."

Talia raised an eyebrow. "She is an assassin and death is the ultimate price when one fights another assassin. She knows this even if you refuse to accept it."

Black Canary stared at her before she raised her hands up. She began cracking the knuckles of one hand and then the other. "You'll have to get by me first. Please, give it a try."

The two women stared each other down. While Talia was confident that she could deal with this vigilante, now wasn't the time. She was a competent fighter and wouldn't go down easily. That wasn't even factoring the battle they were already in. Besides, she could have Scorpiana finished off at a later time. The important thing was that the Black Glove was defeated.

"Very well," she acquiesced. "I will follow your rules—for now. One day you will see them for what they are: childish."

"I rather doubt that," Black Canary retorted. "From here on out, I'm keeping an eye on you. You can bet that the moment you slip up—and you will slip up—my fist will be making permanent friends with your face."


	31. Folding a Flush

Folding a Flush

Hush bobbed and weaved, keeping his distance between him and the Dark Knight. Undeterred, Batman was hot on his heels, throwing a punch here and there when he felt he was within striking distance. Unfortunately, the bandaged man would dart away, avoiding the attack.

Nearly running into one of the Fiends, Hush immediately grabbed onto the man and pulled him off balance. The Fiend cried out as he stumbled right in between the two men. Hardening his expression, Batman leapt at the stumbling man, leading with an elbow raised, which rammed right into his face. Knocked clear off his feet, the Fiend collapsed to the floor in a heap, the vigilante pressing forward.

By then, Hush had put a little more distance between them, only this time he had two Fiends next to him, holding each by their upper arms. "Here's a couple more!" he shouted before he pushed the one to his left forward, and then the right. Unlike the first one, these two were more than ready to attack him.

The first man didn't stand a chance. Even as he raised an axe, Batman was already in his face, his fist slamming and breaking his nose. Like a tree he fell over as blood spurted out of his nostrils.

The second man closed in immediately. This one had a chain that he was swinging over his head, hooting and hollering. At the last instant, he swung the chain, which Batman blocked with his forearm. The chain wrapped around his arm, which was perfectly. Yanking his arm to a side, that inadvertently pulled the Fiend forward, something he clearly wasn't expecting as he started to stumble, eyes widened with surprise. Surging forward, Batman thrust a palm strike at the man, his palm smashing right on top of the man's mouth. Squeezing his fingers to get a hold of the Fiend's face, Batman continued forward, knocking the man off his feet and backwards, causing him to fall. Kneeling down, the dark-clad man forced his foe to crash down on the floor hard, the back of his skull bashing hard on the cement flooring. His arms flopped about for a moment before he went still.

Standing back up, Batman went still. Hush...he was gone. Eyes darting from side to side, he searched for the bandaged man, only seeing the mad fighting between vigilantes and Fiends.

And then he caught sight of something. Jerking his head—there! Hush had somehow managed to clear the fighting and had gotten to the entrance of a hallway, a door frame in place though the doors had been ripped off at some point since they were absent. Hush stopped by the entrance, pausing long enough to make eye contact with the vigilante, a smirk appearing on his face before he bolted down the hallway.

Pulling out his grapple, Batman fired it at the ceiling, hearing the grapple claw grab onto an anchor point and the line go taut. Hitting the retraction button, he shot up into the air, promptly disengaging the grapple claw from the ceiling. Soaring over the mob, Batman landed on the outside of the skirmish, right in front of the open doorway. By then the grapple claw had returned to the barrel of the grapple gun, allowing him to shove it back into its pouch at the back of his belt. Launching himself forward, he ran into the corridor, giving chase to Hush.

Arms pumping at his sides as his feet pounded on the floor, Batman ran as fast as he could, cape billowing behind him. No way was he allowing Hush to escape him. Admittedly, this had to be a trap if that smirk on the man's face was anything to go by. He was still a step or two ahead, never mind the six he usually claimed to be.

Case in point, the lighting in this hallway was abysmal. Every third light was on, the other two out due to the bulbs being broken, missing, or the wiring had rotted away. One light was flickering on and off repeatedly, a steady drone as electrical current still powered the faulty light fixture. This caused the corridor to be bathed with darkness at uneven intervals, giving Hush ample opportunity to disappear or hide. For all Batman knew, he had already passed the man and he was following behind stealthily.

Slowing his pace down, Batman ended up in the middle of two intersecting hallways, which gave him three halls to check. Eyes moving from the left, to the middle, to the right halls, he even turned his head to look over his shoulder at the hallway behind him, just to insure that Hush hadn't been sneaking up on him.

Nope, he wasn't there. So that left three options. Batman clenched his fists tightly as he again looked at the three corridors. Any wrong choice would let the bandaged man get away and his chances of picking the incorrect one was greater than the right one.

Wait.

Jerking around to his left, Batman skidded to a stop as he caught sight of a man wearing a rather odd costume. The tailored suit he wore wasn't all too strange, by the bat-like mask he wore definitely stood out. He was propping himself up against a wall, a hand rubbing at the side of his face.

He knew this man.

Already, Batman recognized the costume as the one belonging to his father, the masquerade costume that had been stolen from the manor. Though he wore a mask, it could not hide the presence behind it and the vigilante's mind cried out that it knew him. Closing the distance, he reached out and snagged the man by the white button-up shirt, yanking him close so that his eyes glared into the masked, yet bland face. "I know you," he stated, his voice almost a growl.

Brown eyes blinked, slight surprise in them before they shifted into smugness, and a small smile appeared on the man's face. "It would seem that friend of yours was correct," he remarked before he raised both of his hands up, as if surrendering. Instead, he calmly removed the mask, revealing a nondescript face beneath combed dark hair. He looked more than familiar now—in fact, he would have thought this man bore a strong resemblance to the Wayne family. "Dr. Simon Hurt, at your service," he introduced himself. "It's good to see you again."

Dr. Hurt...oh yes, he knew him. This was the man that had ran that strange operation in Guam. He had helped him delve into the madness-inducing tortures to help him better understand the Joker.

Staring at him now, there was something clearly different about him. Before, he had been this helpful, unassuming researcher. He still looked like that man; however, those features held something more conniving. Perhaps it had always been there. Perhaps Batman had ignored it as he focused on the program.

"What are you doing here?" the vigilante growled as he straightened out his posture, his cape sliding over his shoulders to hide his body.

"Why, to help you of course. It's all I've ever wanted to do." Hurt then bowed his head to him, lowering the hand that held the bat mask out to his side. Lifting his head back up and dropping his other arm, he then said, "In addition, I believe there is someone you're looking for."

Batman nodded, leaning his face closer. "Hush. Where did he go?"

In return, Hurt shook his head in the negative. "No, not him. He is of little concern to you now. No, the individual I speak of is that butler of yours, Alfred Pennyworth."

A jolt ran up his spine. Alfred? Here? "Where is he?!" he barked.

Raising his unoccupied hand up, he gestured for him to wait. "Have no fear, I will lead you to him. That is what you wish, yes?"

There was something not right with this. After all this time, it couldn't be this simple. Alfred couldn't simply be here, ready to be picked up. With all of the preparation that had gone into this plan of Hurt and Hush's, it could not end this way.

And still, this was his best opportunity to pick up the old man's remains…

Bowing his head forward, he acknowledged the doctor's words. "Very good. If you would follow me? Your reunion awaits you."

* * *

The fighting had spilled out of the big room with all the fancy decorations and the big ass table. Thanks to all that, Nightwing lost sight of the girls, which put him in a very concerned state of mind.

While he trusted in their abilities to fight, they had come a long way after all, the fact that the outcome of this battle was still uncertain meant anything could happen. He did not want another Jason or Barbara on his hands, not again, and so he attempted to keep an eye out for them while doing his best to collect teeth from anyone that got too close.

Maybe that was while he got snuck up on; the young adult only knew this because he was yanked back harshly and thrown. The good news was that he was sent into a long cell block that hadn't seen any fighting. The bad news was that the one blocking his way out of here was one of those Royal Flush guys, specifically the tall, African American one.

Recalling what little he knew about them, he had to hazard a guess that this was Ten. Ten was cracking his knuckles menacingly and giving him this look that was a bit too much on the sadistic side.

"Batman shocked the hell out of my balls," Ten stated calmly, his voice still a light soprano. Nightwing had to give an empathetic wince out of male solidarity, but then tensed when Ten added, "I'm taking it out on you."

"Figures," he muttered while holding out his escrimas.

Giving a yell, Ten charged, fist held up as he closed the distance between them rapidly. Fully expecting some kind of superpower, Nightwing chose to not get hit and slid to a side, the large fist swinging fruitlessly through the air. There was a follow up swing from the other fist, dodged of course, and then the vigilante went into action, ducking under a muscled arm and slamming an escrima into an exposed stomach.

The dark-haired man frowned as he noted how his weapon seemed to bounce off Ten, but he didn't let that slow him down as he maneuvered around the big lug, missing a jabbing elbow, and then landed another hit on Ten's lower back.

Nothing, when most people would have been crying out in pain or be dropping to their knees. Keeping on his toes, the vigilante upped the voltage on the escrima while evading a grabbing hand. For Ten's troubles, Nightwing rewarded him with a hit on his arm, the electricity crackling against the big teen's limb.

There was only a wince and nothing more.

Pulling back quickly, Nightwing regarded his opponent warily, wracking his mind to recall any tidbit he knew about this guy and ended up pulling a blank. There was nothing obvious about being a stretchy and rubbery or shooting laser beams from his hands.

The second's worth of breath ended as Ten went on the attack once more, swinging a fist from on high and down at the young man's head. Nightwing jerked back, once again dodging the failed blow. A fist came from his right, and then from his left as Ten refused to let up. When the dark-skinned teen attempted an uppercut, Nightwing tried once more to inflict some damage and jabbed the end of once escrima, voltage at max, right into the flat gut.

Electricity flared, but Ten endured, taking the chance to grab the older man by his arm Next thing he knew, Nightwing found himself flying through the air, his body stopping only when he struck against a wall of metal bars. There was a loud, screeching sound as the bars bent, and then the vigilante fell to the floor, his back killing him. That had been bad, real bad.

"Caught you," Ten growled as he advanced. "Now stay...still."

Nightwing rolled out of the way as a fist attempted to pile drive him into the floor. The floor didn't stand a chance, and the vigilante cursed as he witness the feat of strength as that fist decimated the concrete floor.

Okay, so he was strong and could take a hit. A lot of hits. This was sucking already and he needed to end it now. But how? The last time he had taken on anyone like this, it had ended when he drove his escrima down Mario Falcone's mouth. Ten didn't look like he was going to give him the same chance.

Scrambling back, and nearly gasping as his back screamed at him, the dark-haired vigilante kept on the defensive, doing his best not to suffer another hit. There were a few close calls, but any openings were short lived, his back preventing him from using all his mobility to take any advantage exposed.

Then Ten wised up, feinting a punch so that he could do a leg sweep, kicking Nightwing's legs out from under him. Automatically, the former acrobat went into a handstand, almost crying out from the pain that lanced through his torso. His movements were slow enough that Ten's next hit connected and now the vigilante was skidding against the floor.

This...this was not going well.

"Slowing down? Good," Ten taunted as he advanced again, showing no signs of exhaustion.

Clenching his teeth together, Nightwing forced himself back onto his feet, holding his excrimas in front of him once more. He was not going to give up, not now.

As Ten raised his fist up once more, his eyes widened behind his domino back and he was suddenly racing towards him. However, there was an obvious difference here as neither of Ten's feet were still on the floor. Dodging to his left, he watched Ten fly past him, then immediately looked back where the teen had been standing.

Standing straighter, Starfire watched the Royal Flush member coolly, though she did spare a glance in Nightwing's direction. "You are unhurt?"

"I'm feeling something. Going to need to get it checked out," he told her while taking a place near her.

Starfire nodded briskly. "I will try to deal with him."

"Deal with this!"

To Nightwing's amazement, Starfire blocked the punch thrown at him, and with her own arm no less. A face that was normally pleasant, whether expressing curiosity or just neutral, it now was in full concentration. She knocked aside a second punch, then leapt over the following leg sweep. She only moved to a side for the fourth attack, but that was so that she could grab the extended arm and pull down on it, flipping Ten over her shoulder.

There was a loud whumping sound as Ten's body slammed onto the floor, and you could hear the air escape his lungs. Nightwing pulled back, allowing this ally of Red Robin's to handle the fighting until he could see his next opportunity to add in his two cents.

Ten, to his credit, was quick to recover, rolling back onto his feet and charging at the orange-skinned woman. Starfire knocked his attack to the side and counterattacked immediately, slamming a jab into his ribs. Ten grunted but didn't kowtow, bringing a knee up which Starfire blocked with her elbow. The scuffled continued with hard-hitting blows, grunts, and blocks before Red Robin's teammate was able to break away.

And damn it, Ten didn't look worse for wear. The card-themed goon gave them a grin as he seemed to pick up on Nightwing's frustration.

"You can't hurt me. Knock me down, but I always get up. Throw me around, I always come back. Try all you want, but in the end, I win," Ten taunted as he took a step closer to them.

Starfire's eyes flashed, literally glowing green. A ball of green energy formed in her hand and she fired it off. Ten braced himself for impact, the bolt of power detonated against him. Nightwing jerked his arms up, intending to use them as shields but stopped prematurely. As the green energy dissipated, Ten remarked standing, no signs of any damage or injury to him.

"The Bat's toys did a lot more than that," he taunted. "Got anymore?"

"Don't give in," Nightwing murmured, take a sidestep closer to Starfire. "There's got to be a way. We just need to figure it out."

Starfire's face was a mask of determination, so it was difficult to tell if she had heard him. A quick nod of her head dispelled any doubts.

"Is that all you got? C'mon! Give it your best shot. Let's see if it tickles," Ten continued.

"He can take a hit, he can hit really hard. How do we take that away from him?" Nightwing found himself muttering.

Something about his words must have struck a chord with his fighting partner, because the orange-skinned woman relaxed her stance. "Thank you for the bulb of light," she stated.

What?

Suddenly, she was rocketing her way to Ten, not having the decency to give away what she was up to.

"Oh, you want to go head on? I'll snap that neck," Ten jeered as he readied himself for a fight. Not waiting, he lunged forward, throwing a punch at Starfire that he was fully expecting to connect.

Starfire twisted her body to a side, snatching up the appendage, and simultaneously jerked and bent it at the elbow. In quick fashion she was behind him, locking the arm behind Ten, and forcing a cry of surprise out of him.

Ah, joint manipulation; Nigthwing suddenly reach the same conclusion that his former partner's teammate had had. It didn't matter how strong Ten's body was, it held the same flaws as everybody else. Though, how effective it would be in the long—

Ten gave a very sharp cry of pain, one his voice seemed unused to giving. Starfire shoved the dark-skinned teen away, Ten gripping at his shoulder while his released arm dangled limply at his side.

Oh, she had dislocated his shoulder. He hadn't seen that one coming.

"You bitch! I can't feel my arm!" Ten roared, glaring heated like at the hot warrior of a woman.

"That was the intention. I am taking your strength from you," Starfire replied mildly.

"Take this!" Ten spat as he predictable tried to punch at her again. He was a brawler with some skill, but none of it meant anything to an actually fighter who knew what she was doing. She caught the arm, twisted her own body to fling Ten down onto the floor and then gave a harsh tug. There was an audible popping sound as the shoulder joint was yanked from its socket.

"Gah!" Ten screamed.

Not done yet, Starfire went for the legs and snatched both up, pulling back until she was in an extreme form of a Boston Crab, keeping that way until there were two more popping sounds. Letting the legs flop uselessly to the floor, Starfire stood up and over her fallen opponent.

What do you know. Having superstrength and some kind of extreme durability meant nothing if you couldn't use it.

"I believe we are ending here," the orange-skinned woman stated, her speech a bit awkward but nothing Nightwing couldn't look past.

"What did you do to me! I can't move!" Ten complained squirming where he laid.

"That's one way to do it," Nightwing commented, ignoring their fallen enemy though he continued to hold his escrima in hand. "You know a lot more than you let on."

"Nothing that could not be accomplished without inspiration," Starfire replied. "Shall we continue with the pummeling of our foes until we resolve this conflict?"

If that was her way of saying let's keep kicking ass, it was far from Nightwing to deny her that.

* * *

One second, she had been taking out quite a bit of frustration on some assholes who deserved it. Since there were so many, she had her choice of who to hit, how much, and how hard. That way, she wouldn't do too much injury that it could result in someone dying. No way would she get Batman on her ass.

Then Wonder Girl was being torn through a wall and right into a communal area. It had been sudden, and for a second, it felt like it had been her armored that had been grabbed before the rest of her body followed suit. It was a weird feeling, to be honest.

Pushing herself up, the blonde fighter growled, "Okay, who has the balls?"

"Balls are overrated," a prissy, elitist—oh how she hated elitists—tone answered her, and soon enough, Wonder Girl found herself looking at Queen.

"Oh, figures, the Queen Bitch decides she wants to ruin a good time," she snarked as she got herself back onto her armored feet.

"And the Amazon pet needs to remember her place," Queen quipped back.

"And here I thought no one could be more annoying than Red. My mistake," Wonder Girl grumbled to herself yet still raised her fists up. "Alright, you want to go, fine by—"

That pulling sensation returned, along with Queen giving a flourish of her hand. A wall welcomed the blonde, a small, Cassie-shaped hole surrounded by a spider web of cracks being the result of their union.

"Honestly, I wished I had seen it earlier. Hush was definitely right," Queen remarked. "I'm going to have some fun with you."

Pulling herself out of the wall, Wonder Girl's blue eyes glared at this stuck up, prissy little _bitch_…

Flinging an arm out, Wonder Girl threw out her lasso, the glowing rope stretching out and catching Queen's arm. Queen stared at it blankly for a second, and only a second, because Wonder Girl yanked harshly on it. That was how Queen found herself rushing through the air at a high rate of speed, one ended with Wonder Girl's armored fist in her face.

Wham, bam, thank you—crap, not again!

This time, the blonde rocketed up to the ceiling, but she was able to turn herself around in spite of the pulling force and let her feet absorb the shock of smacking into the overhead surface. She intended to push off of it, but found that for some reason, she couldn't. The hell was this shit?

"You want to come down? Here!" Queen called out from below and the next thing the blonde knew, she was falling faster than what was normal.

That didn't stop her from flipping herself upright, forcing an arm back with her hand clenched into a fist and throwing it as soon as she could see that bitch's eyes widen. There was a crash as concrete gave way under her strength and she was surrounded by a cloud of dust. Withdrawing her hand, and not hearing any satisfying sounds, she knew she had missed.

"What is it with you people and trying to hit things?" Queen complained, standing just out of the fading cloud of dust and dirt. "It's so...barbaric!"

"Why don't you try it sometime? You might like it," Wonder Girl growled back, standing up once more.

Queen got an odd look on her face before giving a nod, smirking. "Alright, we'll do it your way." She held her arms out from her, just as various pieces of metal from bars, grates, you name it, all rushed towards the platinum blonde teen. Instead of doing something neat, like impale her of some other form of bodily harm, the metal warped and melded around the card-themed bitch until she was covered in a suit of form-fitting steel. Only her face was exposed, and it stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her, meaning there was no way to avoid the ugly.

Forming a mace, one with a lot of small spikes on it, Queen held the weapon up menacingly, almost like she was daring Wonder Girl to come at her. The sad part is...it worked. The blonde could never resist a challenge, no matter who it was from.

The air barely slowed her down, the blonde fighter streaking towards the metal-encased Queen. As if humoring her, there was no pulling sensation, so Wonder Girl took the change to throw quite a bit of force into the punch she threw. In response, Queen swung her mace, the weapon connecting with the armored fist.

Much to Queen's surprise, the mace crumpled underneath Wonder Girl's might, and it was only the intervention of that pulling sensation that saved her a fist in her face. Wonder Girl tried to push forward to avail, which only served to piss her off further. She really needed this, just one hit to that dumbass face…

And then her arm was yanked back, followed by the rest of her.

Damn it!

Digging her feet into the concrete floor, the blonde left shallow trenches before her. The pulling left, and she soon found at why because Queen was there in front of her, swinging a freaking sword. Thanks to the short notice, Wonder Girl blocked with a gauntlet, wincing at the sound of metal screeching against metal.

The sword was gone, but swinging at her again. The gauntlet was back to the rescue with another block, this time a nice ringing as the blade bounced back. Growling, Queen changed the form of the sword back into a mace and spun around, swinging the morphed weapon with her. Again, Wonder Girl blocked, ducking her head behind her protective arm.

Then her arm was yanked away once more, but instead of flying, that mace was incoming and this time, she had little time to react. Fortunately, the armor she wore came to the rescue, forming a helm over her head to act as a last second defense. It didn't stop her head from literally ringing, but it was better than her skull getting smashed in.

Pulling back, Queen looked at her quizzically before narrowing her eyes. Forming a second mace that seem to flow right out of her hand, the bitch went on the attack once more only with two swinging maces. While it would have been easy enough to adjust and block like she had earlier, that pulling sensation keep throwing her off, leaving her more open than not when she should have been covered.

In response, her armor adapted in that weird way it did when confronted with any possible injury. Her torso was soon covered, and small spikes extruded from it. Her arms became a bit more weighed down as that two were clad in mystical metal protection Only her upper thighs in the tight, red leotard were coming out unscathed, but for how much longer.

"Really, this is starting to get too easy," Queen mocked.

And she was really, really, asking for it.

There was one problem; as more and more armor covered her, that pulling sensation had more to pull on. There was a sinking suspicion that if this continued, she could end up completely immobilized and completely at Queen's mercy, which would suck so much. Right now, she could really use some last second intervention.

There was a flare of light, a crackling of air, and Queen was holding a hand behind her, blocking what turned out to be a blast of electricity. The metal-clad bitch had thrown a mace right at the blast, allowing the metal to absorb it all. Okay, that thing was really dangerous right now, especially since it was still speeding towards that punk-looking girl, the one that ran with that Nightwing guy. Uh, her name was something, but for the life of her, Wonder Girl couldn't recall. However, the girl did scramble out of the way, and since Queen was looking at the very wanted last second intervention, the blonde fighter decided to take full advantage of it.

It was so sweet how that metal body suit seemed to warp against her fist, and there she went, Queen being the one to fly away this time. Damn, that felt so good, and Queen impacting the far wall was so sweet.

"Thanks for the save," Wonder Girl called out to her help. However, before she could continue, that pulling sensation returned for the nth time that night and suddenly, that scenario where she was being immobilized had come true. Her arms were being stretched, her legs as well, and hell, she was hovering a few inches off the floor.

"That's enough out of you," Queen growled as she pulled herself away from the wall, a hand outstretched in her direction. Her other one snapped over in the direction of the punk girl who held what looked like a rifle of some sort in her arms. Surprisingly, the rifle was torn out of the girl's hands and right into Queen's. Queen tossed it to a side, not caring a bit about it.

Finally, something clicked in Wonder Girl's head. "You can control metal," she stated dumbly.

"Well, look who finally caught on," Queen snarked.

"Honestly, I hadn't been paying attention," Wonder Girl replied, doing an awkward shrug of her shoulders because apparently that was still allowed somehow. "Guess you really weren't worth paying attention to earlier."

"Then pay attention to this," Queen sneered as the punk girl suddenly was dragged over to her by an invisible force. She must have had a bit of metal on her, or enough that she was picked right off the floor and into Queen's waiting hand. Snatching the lapel of what looked to be a leather jacket—was the metal in that vest she wore under it?—Queen raised the girl up.

"So who are you supposed to be?" the metal-clad girl mocked even as her other hand formed a very long spike whose purpose was very obvious. Wait if she didn't have a hand facing her, why was the blonde still being held up in the air? Did that mean those little hand gestures weren't needed at all?

"Bluebird," the girl grunted, letting one arm dangle at her side while the other slipped out of sight.

"What a stupid name," Queen scoffed as she readied to pierce the spike right into Bluebird. "Hardly intimidating."

Bluebird literally spat into Queen's face.

"And disgusting," Queen added, voice laced with disgust.

"I prefer distracting," Bluebird quipped back as her hidden hand reappeared, holding a long, black, rectangular object. Without a pause, she jammed one of it into Queen's leg and a familiar clicking sound, one that Wonder Girl recognized as a taser, filled the air.

Queen was frozen in place, her eyes going up as if to roll back into her head. Soon, foam began to appear, dripping out of her mouth before Bluebird ended the tase, dangling in Queen's grip. At the same time, that pulling sensation disappeared altogether, allowing Wonder Girl full movement once more.

Allowing herself to land on the floor gently, you know, since this armor allowed her flight, Wonder Girl took a few cautious steps towards Queen. The bitch was still standing, holding Bluebird, and doing nothing. Bluebird was struggling with the grip on her jacket until she eventually ripped it, giving a swear as she finally dropped back down.

"And I liked this jacket," the blue-dyed-haired girl muttered.

"What did you do to her?" the armored blonde spoke up, gesturing to Queen.

"Tased her," Bluebird responded, shrugging her shoulders as she adjusted her ruined jacket. "Metal is a great conductor, too bad for her. The normal tase is amplified and you get that." A hand gestured to the zombie-like look the metal-clad teen had on her face, eyes rolled upwards and foam dripping out of her mouth and to the floor.

"Aren't tasers supposed to be made of metal? Why didn't she stop it like that gun of yours?" Yes, this was a burning question for the blonde because when she wasn't smashing heads, she was trying to make the world make sense.

"Plastic," Bluebird replied, holding up the taser in question. "You could get it at the local big box store, sporting section. Cheap too. Never leave home without it."

Wonder Girl found herself giving the Gotham native a look. "You carry around a taser with you all the time?"

Shooting a look back, Bluebird replied, "You don't? I mean, this is standard just to go to the grocery store."

Fair enough.

* * *

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Only one set could be heard in spite of the fact there were two people.

Hurt had fallen silent the moment they had begun their trek, his footfalls the only sound being made. Batman glided next to him, not so much as making a peep. Every so often he would glance to Hurt, but he sensed no real danger from the man.

That only fed into his growing sense of paranoia.

Corrigan had spoken of a mastermind beyond Hush. This was confirmed by the bandaged man when he told his corrupted story in the shower room. He had made frequent mentions of a doctor that had resurrected him. Hurt was a doctor and his presence here was suspect. He had been at...at...the facility in Guam, which also matched Hush's story. Following these clues, it only made sense that Hurt was whom his former friend was talking about.

Which meant he had spent an inordinate amount of time around Tommy Elliot. A sick mind like that had a tendency to infect those around him, so it stood to reason that Hurt was setting him up for another trap. He would be ready though.

"I hope you've been well since we last parted," Hurt suddenly spoke, breaking the silence between them. "I have been following your exploits since our time together with much interest."

Batman didn't respond immediately. Instead he glanced at the doctor before looking back ahead. "Mind telling me why you're wearing that costume?"

A smirk appeared on Hurt's face. "This old thing? Everyone else was dressing up in such garb that I began to feel left out. So I went to your house and took it. It seems your father had wanted to make sure every sign of my former presence there was erased."

"You're the one that opened that room."

"Of course. I had spent some time there."

So, this was the Simon from his father's journal. Recalling everything he had read, this man had an intimate knowledge of the house, seeming to know more about it than his parents. Then he had become so erratic that his father had kicked him out. "So you're Simon," he chanced.

Hurt actually looked to him. "Oh? Was I mentioned by your father? That surprises me."

"He never said a word about you." Batman then returned the look. "However, his journal said otherwise."

"My, my, so he wrote about me." That small smile appeared on his face, though it was tinged with nostalgia. Batman felt the urge to wipe it off his face with his fist. "I do suppose I had grown moody enough for him to evict me. Nice man, he was, even if he was living in my own house."

"Your house?"

"Yes, once upon a time. I saw that house be built."

But that was a couple hundred years ago. That would make him much older than he looked, though that wouldn't be too surprising or unheard of. After all, he knew of another man that was much older than he looked as well.

However, in this case, he was beginning to recall another conversation, this one with Corrigan. He had made mention of an ancestor that had simply vanished. The timing of that disappearance was right in line with the finished construction of the manor, which would have given this man a room, one that he would have known of prior to his visitation.

As if to confirm this, Hurt said, "I didn't always go by Simon Hurt. In fact, I have used many others."

"Such as Thomas Payne?" Batman ventured.

"Why yes. When did you deduce that?"

That instant actually. Payne was pronounced as pain, which was another word for hurt. On top of that, if this man was who he thought he was, then Thomas was his original name, and he would've kept that initially. "I had suspected for awhile, but had no confirmation until now."

"Your reputation as a detective is well-earned. That name I had taken up shortly after my departure from Gotham. The family name was a little too well-known, so I felt a change was needed." Then Hurt openly looked at him expectantly. "Care to guess that name as well?"

"Thomas Wayne."

"Very good!" Hurt looked pleased by this. "I cannot say I enjoyed your father having my namesake, but it had been years and I am certain it was only coincidental."

"Which would make you over two hundred years old," he ventured.

The doctor nodded. "Of course, you would find that unbelievable. No one lives that long."

One man had. "Care to explain how you have?"

"In due time. In fact, if all goes well, I believe you will witness the proof of what I say."

"I suppose these ways would also explain the return of Thomas Elliot."

Hurt's smile widened. "Indeed. Now is not the time for such intrigue, however. I do have a proposition for you, one I believe you will find most tempting."

Hardly. Hurt was indeed the mastermind Corrigan had been alluding to. This man had not only resurrected Hush—keeping him on a short leash—but he had done something to him in Guam. Though Hush was invested in this plan, this was Hurt's operation. The 99 Fiends worked for him; the Royal Flush Gang were another of his hired guns; in fact, the assassins that had been attacking the Network were also his.

And if Hush was to be believed, Hurt had originally wanted to bring the Dark Knight back following his demise during the Great Gotham Fire. There was no telling what that man would have done with him were he in Hush's position. For once, Batman had to thank Ra's al Ghul for his timely intervention.

Still, he wasn't in a position yet to take Hurt out. He clearly had an overall objective, one he would have kept away from his men. The only way to discover what his intentions were was to play along. The moment he knew Hurt's endgame, he would put a stop to it.

* * *

Everything was going according to plan—his plan.

Getting out of that fight had been tricky. Getting away from Bruce had been trickier. Hush had managed to accomplish both, and had managed to lure the Dark Knight right to Hurt. Hurt was a man who was a master at hiding his thoughts, but once you spent enough time with a person, you could figure out the tells.

Hurt had not expected to run into Batman, but the bad doctor was still an opportunistic shit. The whole plan within plans thing the doctor had going was a bit too elaborate for Hush's tastes, and he was a man who had his own plans within plans.

Regardless, he had the two together and that was what mattered. This next bit was going to be tricky, but if everything went well, both of his enemies would take themselves out. First, he needed to reach his next destination and lie in wait, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

This meant navigating the hallways of Stonegate and keeping far enough away so he wasn't detected by Bruce's hypervigilance and didn't run into any of his Scooby gang. A couple close calls, as the big fight itself couldn't contain itself to one place, had him pointing out a few targets for the Royal Flush Gang to take their frustrations out. He hadn't been able to find Jack, though; probably still wound up in the ventilation somewhere.

As the bandage-wearing man was about to turn a corner, he pulled to the side, allowing a couple Fiends to dash past him. A couple stragglers looking for a fight, and boy would they find one, however it was the deep, Hispanic accent up ahead that held Hush's attention.

El Sombrero was trying to coordinate efforts to somehow bring about a victory this night. A bunch of cartel thugs used to getting their way with little effort versus a group of seasoned crime-fighters who held more skill than your average suburban mom with a degree in self-defense was not going to go well.

Tightening his grip on his .45 caliber pistol, Hush strolled his way to the other masked man. "Sombrero!" he called out, lips curled into a bloodthirsty grin.

The man in the luchador mask and, yes, of course, sombrero hat made eye contact with him.

"I admire your work, so this isn't anything personal," the bandage-wearing man greeted as he continued to draw closer.

"What…" Sombrero began, still not understanding what was heading his way.

Aiming his gun at Sombrero's face, Hush pulled the trigger and ended all coordination Hurt's little minion was providing. "But I can't leave Hurt anymore pawns to use, even at a later date," Hush finished as he gazed down at the dying man. The eyes were still dilating, but a bullet in the brain typically was a quick kill.

"Still," he murmured as he continued on his way, "you chose such a _stupid_ name."

With the crafter of death traps out of the way, it was on to the next stop, the place where the real fight would begin.

* * *

The sheer effort it took to shield her mind from the battle around her took a lot of effort. These hoards of Fiends radiated malice and murderous intent. This was normally not a problem since Raven had navigated crime-ridden cities before. However, a city spread this negativity over a large area. The prison they were in concentrated it and it threatened to overwhelm her.

It was just like Peña Duro. Though there were a lot more prisoners there, there was something else in this abandoned prison that was forcing the pale girl to protect herself so that she didn't lose her control. Whatever being she had sensed prior to entering this place was at the back of her head; but that wasn't what was affecting her.

Stonegate, much like Peña Duro, had soaked in the negativity from its thousands of inmates, past and present. That created a force that was not to be trifled with. For someone as sensitive to emotions, it was not a place Raven should be.

And yet, she found herself going to these places ever since she joined Victor and the others. Where had her judgement gone so awry?

A sword came slicing for her head, which caused the young girl to jerk her head back, narrowly avoiding the tip of the blade. With a sweeping gesture of her hand, a circle of darkness appeared around the sword hand of the Fiend, then promptly sent the man flying high through the air. The Fiend screamed as he careened through the large room, only stopping when he crashed right into a wall.

"Someone kill this little bitch!" Raven heard someone shout, which caused her to turn around. A short distance away was three more Fiends, one with a knife, another with a spear, and another wearing brass knuckles. It was clear they were the ones wanting to harm her.

Unimpressed by the sight of them, Raven summoned her magical energies and three dark orbs appeared in the air above her head, spreading out from left to right. Then the orbs began to grow bigger, elongating until three large, black guns formed, pointing right at the men. Each gun was easily the size of a small child, the barrels themselves the approximate size of a cannonball. "I think you've come to this fight outgunned," she said to them in a deadpanned tone.

The three Fiends froze, staring at her cannon-sized guns with wide eyes. Then the three spun around and bolted, running for their lives.

Raven wasn't about to let the men escape. Most likely they were going to regroup somewhere, restore their courage, then attack one of the others. It was best to take them off the board as threats, even if they were mere pawns.

Before she could act though, an energy beam tore into one of her guns, blasting through it and into the next one, and then the next. As her magical energies dissipated, Raven spun around, finding the gaudily dressed King facing her, a scowl on his face, and a hand raised and pointed at her.

"I'm done playing around with you dweebs," the young man told her. "It's time to make mincemeat out of ya."

And then he fired another blast. Immediately, Raven held her hands out in front of her, her black magic appearing in the form of a large, round shield. The beam collided with the shield, bearing the brunt of the attack until it finished.

"Cute," King grunted at her. "But it's going to take more than a shield to save you."

"I think it will be more than enough to stop you," Raven returned, again in a deadpanned tone. "As for defeating you, that is only a spell away."

King snarled at her words. "I am done with all of this disrespect! I am a king, damn it! Now bow before your king!"

The youth then fired another energy blast, but unlike the first one, which was a short one, this one extended from his hand all the way to her shield. Immediately, Raven felt there was something different about this beam. It felt stronger, which her black magic shield could attest to as cracks appeared in it. Alarmingly, the cracks continued to widen, albeit at a slow rate. It shouldn't have happened to begin with, however.

"Burn, witch!" King shouted as he increased his output. The moment the cracks in her shield went red, Raven widened her eyes before she dove to one side, the energy beam finally blasting through the shield. Going into a roll, the pale girl ended up on her feet, staying crouched to the floor. She didn't look to see what happened to the beam, mostly because she heard an explosion ring out. The damage was of little concern unless the roof decided to collapse.

Again, she made another sweeping gesture with her hand. This time, orbs of black magic formed around the heels and ankles of nearby Fiends. Just as sudden as they appeared, the Fiends were yanked right off their feet, flying feet first towards King. Jerking his head towards the airborne men, King backpedaled as fast as he could, the cronies hitting the floor right where he had been standing, bouncing off of it until they all ended up in a pile of body parts.

Certain she had King distracted, Raven made to summon more of her magic when King immediately fired another blast at her. Once again, she formed a shield—albeit a smaller one—in front of her, feeling the shield take the blast successfully.

Alright, Raven just had about enough of this guy. He was a one-trick pony that should not have required this much effort to dispatch. The next opening she saw, she was going to put this guy down hard.

As it turned out, she never got that chance. Another Fiend came flying through the air, this time colliding with King and knocking him off of his feet. The youth cried out as he hit the floor, immediately scrambling back onto his feet. "Alright, who has the balls?!" he demanded.

That's when one of the other vigilantes appeared, standing relaxed with a staff in hand. If Raven wasn't mistaken, this was the one called Manhunter, and she coolly gazed at King. "I may not have any balls," she quipped, "but I'm certain I've got more testosterone than you do."

"Bitch," King seethed before he raised his hand at her. In response, Manhunter held her staff with both hands, holding it by her right hip with one end pointed right at King. "I'll blast you to Kingdom Come!"

"Give it your best shot, punk," she shot back.

Well, now that King had his attention diverted, it seemed Raven had just the opening she was waiting for. Gathering her magical energies, she readied to strike. She'd wait for the two to clash and then launch her own surprise attack.

And then King fired his signature beam attack. In return, the end of Manhunter's staff began to glow right before it too fired an energy blast, much to Raven's surprise. The two blasts collided with each about midway between the two opponents, Manhunter's swallowing up King's beam without even slowing down.

King didn't even have a chance to gape as Manunter's blast slammed right into his chest. The force of the beam sent the youth flying backwards through the air, crashing head first into a wall. He fell to the floor limply, landing in a heap.

"Mine's bigger," Manhunter remarked coolly. Then she turned her attention to Raven. "You okay?"

"I am," the younger girl replied as she stood up.

"Good. Let's clean this place up. Stonegate's going to have its first residents in a long time, so let's not disappoint it."

* * *

The walk with Hurt seemed to last a long time. All the while Hurt continued to talk, something that made Batman suspect he was trying to keep the vigilante's attention on him. It didn't work as he continually searched the corridor and intersecting halls for traps.

Nothing happened, which was even more frustrating. He knew it was coming, so the suspense was irritating. He didn't reveal any of this to his host, who either knew his paranoia, or was oblivious to it.

Eventually, they reached a set of doors, a dirty sign hanging above it labeling it the INFIRMARY. The sign had originally been posted to the wall by two pegs, one of which was gone, which left it hanging diagonally in front of the doors by the remaining peg. Walking right up to the doors, Hurt opened one, angling to one side to allow the Dark Knight to enter.

The room was in disarray, which wasn't too surprising. A few of the bed frames left behind were broken, lying in heaps on the floor. There wasn't a mattress to be found anywhere. There wasn't any medical equipment either. A large dark window covered a sizeable portion of one of the walls, no doubt a place guards could watch prisoners while they were here.

However, there was a table, recently purchased if its shiny metal surface was any indication. It was the cleanest thing in the room. A light fixture hanging from the ceiling lit it up, along with the body that laid on top of it. From this angle, he could only see the bottom of the person's feet.

However, a large mirror had been positioned between the light fixture and the wall, it took hanging from wires from the ceiling to hold it up. A glance to the mirror caused the vigilante to freeze.

There, lying peacefully, was Alfred. He hadn't aged a day since his death, looking whole and well. There wasn't even the bullet hole in his face from where he had been shot. With his hands resting on top of his stomach, it looked as if Alfred were merely sleeping.

"This is whom you were searching for, yes?" Hurt spoke then, interrupting the moment. "The body of your faithful butler?"

Numb, Batman slowly stepped towards the older man. How was this possible? It had been years since the burial. Decomposition should have been over and done with, leaving only skeletal remains. And yet…

"You've undoubtedly noticed the state of your butler. It took no effort at all to restore him to this state. One could even say that he is merely sleeping a coma-like sleep," Hurt continued to speak.

"How did you do this?" Batman asked, not once tearing his eyes away.

"I have my ways—ways that can be used to your benefit."

That got his attention. Slowly tearing his eyes away from the peaceful Alfred, the dark-clad man stared at Hurt. "What do you mean?"

A smile similar to that of a shark grew onto the doctor's face. "Nothing is impossible, my friend. I was able to bring back your rival from beyond death. I can do the same for your butler.

"All you have to do...is ask."


	32. One Last Wager

One Last Wager

A door opened quietly as possible, and the man who's name was a synonym for silence entered into a small room. Taking up much of a wall was a see-through glass mirror, one that gave a great view of the prison's infirmary.

Internally, Hush growled at the sight of the neglected medical space, his past history as a surgeon demanding that that room be brought up to his personal standards. Alas, he had been too busy making Bruce's life a living hell to do that, so only what Hurt deemed important was cleaned up and maintained.

That meant a single bed with a single patient. Peering through the mirror, he could see that the party had already started. On one side of the bed stood Bruce, his white lens eyes wide as they gazed upon the sight of a restored Alfred. It wasn't too bad of a job, like the old man would wake up any second and ask if there was anything you needed.

Opposite Bruce stood Hurt, the bed serving as a barrier between the two men. The bad doctor only had eyes for the vigilante, a wide, hungry smile on his face. Oh, he knew that smile. It meant that it was temptation time.

Hush wasn't alone in this small room, though. Standing in front of the one-way mirror was Ace, also facing the sight of the two men. The bandage-wearing man smirked then strolled over, taking his place beside the slip of a girl, taking care not to look at her. Instead, he zeroed in on the mirror that hung just over the bed, angled so that he could see the masked face of Batman.

_You never can prepare for everything, can we, Bruce?_

Hurt's voice suddenly rang throughout the room, "You've undoubtedly noticed the state of your butler. It took no effort at all to restore him to this state." Blah, blah, blah, that bastard loved to hear himself speak, didn't he? Especially when he was bragging.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Hush spoke aloud, "Be ready. When the time is right, we strike."

Ace gave away nothing to hint she heard him, but he knew she had. She would play her part to perfection. Until then, she would continue to play her current role.

It was only a matter of counting the seconds.

* * *

All you have to do is ask. Was it really that simple?

Batman couldn't tear his eyes from Alfred's peaceful face. He hadn't realized until that very moment how much he wanted to see the man alive and well. While he had wished it many a time, the urge had never felt stronger.

And asking for it to happen was all it would take. The way Hurt spoke, it was as if he was fully able to do such a thing. In fact, he had; Hush was his proof and all he needed. Left and right, it seemed bad people received all the breaks, leaving the innocent to weep and die. How was that fair? Wasn't it about time someone good received some good fortune?

That person wasn't him. Batman had long since resigned himself to the fact he wasn't some angel, someone worthy of salvation. He had harmed just as many people, if not more, than the very people he sought to stop. His intentions be damned, his halo had long since fallen.

But not Alfred. If anyone deserved a second chance, than it was…

Tearing his eyes away, he looked up to Hurt. For a split second he thought he saw a benevolent man who wanted nothing more than to help. Perhaps he was misguided in his efforts, but he genuinely seemed eager to reward him. But a shadow placed over his face and the spell faltered. Instead of a man wishing to be of service, he saw a predator just waiting to pounce.

The look vanished as soon as it appeared. Taking a moment to shake off what his heart wanted, his mind came to the fore and began questioning everything. Hurt had gone through a ton of effort to torture him not in body, but in mind and spirit. Those weren't the actions of a good, misunderstood man. There was something else going on.

"If I...ask," he hesitantly spoke, wanting to appear as if he were on the verge of agreeing. "If I ask, what's the catch? What you're offering isn't something that comes without a price."

Hurt somberly nodded his agreement. "Unfortunately, you are correct. While I do possess the means to resurrect this man, it requires a sacrifice. Not of life, I assure you. I have spent many years and decades seeking out magicks that you would scarcely believe. The ritual I performed that resulted in your former colleague was a rudimentary version, one in which I have refined and completed. I've already taken the steps to begin this ritual. The fact that your faithful butler lies in pristine condition is a result of this. However, this is as far as I can go without requiring a price. To complete the ritual, I must ask something of you."

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing much. I just need something small, something..._soul-sized_...to ensure its success."

Batman looked back down at Alfred. Soul-sized huh? He knew how this story ended and he wasn't too opposed. The only one who would be damned would be him and he was more than willing. His soul for Alfred? There was no hesitating with that as a choice.

So why? Why hadn't he already accepted? Why was he still standing here contemplating this offer? As much as he wanted to accept, there was something in the back of his head was nagging him, demanding that he refuse. It claimed something wasn't right about any of this.

He forcefully shut that part of his brain down.

His soul for Alfred. That was an easy choice.

Looking up to Hurt, he opened his mouth to speak.

* * *

And there it was, the delectable apple, the proverbial carrot, that Hurt now dangled before a longing Batman. For a man like him, what could be more tempting than the correction of one of his greatest failures?

As soon as he had learned the circumstances of Alfred's death, Hush had known how much it impacted his former friend. There was a gradual falling apart of his life, one that most wouldn't see because of the success of Wayne Enterprises and the playboy persona the man had adopted. A breakdown so subtle, the world's "greatest" detective was unable to see it himself until it was too late.

It didn't hurt that this desire to fix this failing, the death of a trusted family member, because that is what Alfred truly was, was also exposed to Hurt himself when he had access to Bruce's mind in that isolation chamber.

Even now, the details of that experiment hadn't been shared with Hush, the tiny things that Hurt witnessed and kept to himself, hoarding away and lording over those who didn't have that information.

But that information was only facts for Hurt; he never could realize the full meaning of it. How it could be used to not only harm Bruce, but also be used as a weapon _by_ Bruce.

"This is it," Hush whispered to Ace. "Get ready…"

The young girl's body tensed, obeying him. Such a good girl, she was. There was a part of her that always wanted to please, something that would go unnoticed since no one willingly spent enough time with her.

However, Hush had never been a man who was good with children.

Behind Ace, the former surgeon withdrew his gun, aiming its barrel at the unknowing girl's lower back. Hush kept his eyes on the dark pair on the other side of the see-through glass, watching and waiting, waiting for the right words to come out of Hurt's mouth, for Batman to express initial resistance before slowly considering and then even more slowly, giving in…

His grip tightened on the gun handle, finger tensing on the trigger.

"I just need something small, something..._soul-sized_...to ensure its success."

Hush pulled the trigger and shattered the illusion.

* * *

The gunshot tore throughout the room, causing Batman to jolt where he stood. Before his very eyes, Alfred shimmered and vanished, revealing only a pile of bones, aged and brittle.

Jerking his head up, he saw Hurt had snapped his head towards a large window on one side of the room, his face alit with anger. Whatever he was feeling, however, was nothing compared to the fury that screamed in the vigilante's ears.

Shooting a hand out, he grabbed onto Hurt's collar and pulled him over the table between them. A startled look appeared on the doctor's face as he lost his balance, slapping down his hands on the table to steady him. An instant later and Batman slammed a fist right into the man's face. Releasing his hold on the man, he sent him flying backwards through the air, his back crashing up against the window, causing large cracks to appear in the glass. Hurt collapsed to the floor a moment, lying there limply.

Considering the doctor had looked towards that window, undoubtedly there was something else going on behind it. It took him a second to recall it was a one-way mirror, designed so that guards could watch the inmates kept here. That made the glass thicker and harder to penetrate.

Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a bat-shaped shuriken. His thumb quickly located a small switch on its body, one he flicked before threw it at the window. Whirling through the air, the projectile closed in on its target, one sharp wing embedding itself into the glass and keeping it there.

Though it was hard to see at this distance, Batman could hear the vibrating sound it made. Around the vibrating shuriken, smaller cracks began to form, growing wider and wider with every passing second. Hauling himself over the table, Batman took off running towards the window, leaping at the last second as he leaned backwards and extended both of his legs in front of him.

Thanks to the vibrating shuriken, the glass had weakened enough that when his feet rammed into it, the window shattered. Immediately, Batman soared into a small room, a guard station for the infirmary. Two people came into view then, one of which was Hush. As it turned out, Hush was right in front of him, head facing him.

The Dark Knight's feet slammed into the bandaged man's chest, sending him flying backwards into the wall behind him. Landing on the floor, Batman stayed crouched, one hand pressing down onto the tiled flooring as he did a quick survey of the room.

Instantly, he came to a stop. Lying on the floor a short distance away was a young girl dressed in a black and white bodysuit. However, her leotard was stained red with blood. Chancing a look to Hush, he saw the man sliding down the wall to the floor. Gritting his teeth, he then darted towards the girl, kneeling next to her as he wrapped his arms around her and turned her onto her side.

Immediately, the girl whimpered, crying out from the pain she felt. "Shhhh," Batman whispered soothingly, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "It's going to be alright." Pressing a hand to her back, he quickly found the bullet hole and grimaced. It was right in her lower back, though thankfully not right on her spine. Looking to her face, he recognized her as the girl that had been with Hush at the GCPD.

"Hey," he spoke to her, causing her to open one of her tightly closed eyes. "What's your name?"

The girl stared at him blankly before she murmured a single word. "Ace."

So this was the ace of the Royal Flush Gang. Batman held back his revulsion at the fact at how young she looked. She couldn't be any more than thirteen, maybe fourteen. "Ace, I'm going to check you over, alright? You've been shot in your back and I need to see if the bullet has exited your body."

Reaching a hand to her stomach, he went searching for an exit wound and found it. At least the bullet wasn't lodged somewhere in her body. "Looks like the bullet went right through you," he told her. "I can patch you up long enough to get you to medical attention, understand?"

By now, the girl had turned her head more to regard him. "Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're hurt."

"But...we are enemies. Why are you helping someone who is against you?"

Reaching to his belt, he began pulling out some supplies, specifically gauze, tape, superglue, and a small syringe. "Because I won't let anyone die that I can help." Removing the top of the glue tube, he held it over the exit wound even as he squeezed it shut. Applying a generous layer of the glue, he held it closed until he was sure it was shut.

"You are...too kind."

"You wouldn't do the same for me?" he asked her. He needed to keep her talking. As long as she was awake, that meant she hadn't gone into shock just yet. Moving the glue tube, he closed the bullet hole to her back with it.

"I was told not to."

"Then whoever told you that is wrong."

The girl fell silent at that, not that it bothered Batman. He was now placing gauze to the glued wounds and taping them down.

Suddenly, there was movement. Whipping his head up, he saw Hush leap through the broken window, stopping only long enough to look around, catching sight of an escaping Hurt and growling after him, making chase as the two of them ran out of the infirmary. A growl escaped the dark-clad man, but he couldn't follow them just yet. Returning his attention to Ace, he then picked up the syringe and removed the cap from the needle. "I've stopped the external bleeding temporarily," he told the girl. "Unfortunately, I don't know the extent of the internal bleeding, so we'll need to get you to medical help soon. I'm now giving you a shot of Morphine to help with the pain."

He then promptly stabbed the needle right into the girl's upper arm, pushing the plunger down quickly, and then pulled the needle out. "That will take a few minutes to kick in." He paused for a moment before asking, "How are you feeling so far?"

Ace looked at him as if she were staring into his very soul. The last time he had looked into those eyes, he had lost all sense and reason. Now though, he could see a haunted look. He didn't know what caused it, but he didn't like the implication of it. "Thank you," she said softly.

He nodded his acknowledgement of her words. "I need to stop those two men, Hurt and Hush. Will you be okay if I leave you here?"

This time she nodded. "They are heading for the underground levels. A fight has broken out between them and the nearest entrance so they are heading for another one. If you go right and down to the end of the hall, there is a shaft that goes all the way down."

It went without saying that he'd beat the two men there. Moving a hand, he pressed it to her cheek. "I will be back," he told her. Then he stood up and moved to the closed door to the room, opening it and entering the hallway.

* * *

Ace's directions had proven invaluable. There was indeed an underground tunnel system, part naturally-made, part artificial. Though this particular tunnel was mostly made of the very earth and stone that surrounded it, there were large, long sections throughout the corridor where cement had been poured. The walls were the main location for these, a series of pipes emerging from one end of the section and traveling the length of the area and disappearing into the other cement end. These areas were scattered at random intervals throughout the tunnel.

There were also light fixtures at more even intervals that lit this place up, but not by much. Standing in an intersecting corridor, Batman was nearly enveloped in darkness. He had arrived here mere minutes ago, but he was certain his quarry would be passing by this point quite soon.

As if on cue, the sound of pounding footsteps grew louder as they bounced and echoed down the tunnel.

Readying himself, Batman listened carefully to the approaching footsteps before he took launched himself forward. Unlike the two men he hunted, his footfalls were silent even as he started to run.

It all happened in a split second. Hurt and Hush appeared in view before the vigilante, arms pumping at the sides and feet pounding floor. Batman then rammed into the two men, Hush taking the brunt of the collision as he was knocked right into the wall. Hurt went stumbling forward, tripping on his own feet before he fell to the floor. However, the man was quick to push himself back onto his feet, not even bothering to turn his head to look at the Dark Knight as he quickly began running once more.

Batman didn't care at that moment; he would deal with Hurt _very _soon. Instead he put all of his attention on Hush.

With a growl, the bandaged man shoved himself off the wall and against the vigilante, which the dark-clad man took as a sign to back off a step. It was a good thing he had too as Hush threw a fist at him, one that he easily blocked. Undeterred, the man swung his other fist at him, which resulted in it also being blocked.

That's when Batman leaned his head back as far as he could before he threw it forward, slamming his forehead against Hush's. Stars exploded before both men's eyes, but it was Hush who cried out as he stumbled backwards into the wall behind him.

Shooting his forward, Batman grabbed onto the man's jacket by the collar. Twisting his body to one side, he pulled as hard as he could on his foe, causing him to stumble before his feet left the floor. Letting out a roar, Batman threw the man through the air, Hush careening sideways and horizontal over the floor until he crashed into wall on the opposite side of the corridor. He collapsed a moment later onto the floor, though he didn't stay that way, gingerly pushing himself back up.

Darting towards the man, Batman raised a leg up at the last second, bending it. As Hush turned his body so that he could look at the dark-clad man, the vigilante's knee rammed right into his face, snapping his head back until the back of his skull bashed up against the wall again.

As Hush slumped back to the floor, Batman took to one knee, grabbing onto his jacket again. Drawing a fist back, he slammed it over and over into Hush's face, causing spit—and soon after blood—to fly from his mouth.

"A little girl, Tommy?!" Batman bellowed between punches. "Why?!" Another punch. "Why did you shoot her?!"

The Dark Knight paused as Hush wobbly rose his head to look at him. "Why, you ask? Because why should I let someone else beat you? I refuse to let someone like Hurt get the best of you. If anyone is going to—"

Hush was interrupted as another fist smashed into his face, shutting him up. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to beat this man within an inch of his magic-sustained life, he didn't have as much time as that required. Hurt was still on the loose and capturing him would end this night.

Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Snapping one end around Hush's wrist, he then pulled the arm up so that he could wrap the handcuff chain around a pipe that was positioned above the bandaged man's head. With that done, he then clicked the other end of the cuff on Hush's other wrist, securing him to the pipe.

Then he grabbed Hush by the throat, squeezing it tight enough to get the man's attention, but not choke him out. "We're not finished here," Batman growled dangerously.

"Are we?" Hush taunted back. "Every second you waste with me, that's one more second for Hurt to get away. If you hurry, you might catch up with him, maybe right in front of a hole in the wall. It's just down this hallway. Not too far."

The bastard was up to something, probably wanted to distract him with the fleeing man while the bandaged man made good his own escape. Unfortunately, Elliot was right; he couldn't allow the puppet master behind this to get away.

"When I finish with Hurt, I'm picking up right where we're leaving off. _Count on it._"

Then he drew back a fist and swung it down. His anger and fury added power to the punch, one that nailed Hush across the face. His head snapped to one side before it went limp, the rest of his body following suit. Staring at the fallen man, Batman wanted to make sure he had indeed knocked him out cold, soon feeling satisfied that he had.

Standing up, Batman then looked down the dimly lit tunnel. Hurt had been determined to get down this tunnel, not even pausing to check on his pawn. Wherever he was going, it was obvious it was central to his plan.

Taking a step and then another, the vigilante picked up his pace before he was running down the hallway and after the mastermind.

* * *

He would still give his old friend credit, he knew how to hit hard.

Fortunately for Hush, it wasn't hard enough to knock him out. With a disapproving groan, the bandaged man cracked his eyes open and looked in the direction he had sent Bruce when he would find Hurt at the end of it. Either one would take care of the other or they would both take each other out.

"Getting rusty," Hush insulted, not willing to completely send compliments Bruce's way. He tilted his head up towards the pipes over his head where a pair of handcuffs wrapped around them, enclosed over his wrists and binding him there.

Seemingly.

"You can't prepare for everything, but you can prepare for some," he chuckled as he reached into one of the sleeves of his trenchcoat with his index finger and thumb. Fishing around, he pulled out a lock pick hidden in there.

Now to pick the handcuff's lock and free himself. Then he would continue on his way, planning the next time he would rip apart his former friend's life, finding some magic user to keep rejuvenating this stolen body, oh, and collect his winnings from the rest of the Black Glove. It was going to be busy for a while, so it would be best to get started as soon as possible.

As he began to insert the end of the pick into the lock, he detected rather than saw the presence of someone come up beside him. Pausing, he glanced to his left, spotting a pair of bare legs that led up to the bottom of a black and white leotard.

Ah, so the girl was still alive.

"Nothing personal, Ace," Hush began as he started picking the lock once more. His eyes, though, continued up to the injured girl's face, "It..."

Hush's words were cut off, his face slackened, his eyes widened, and a bloodcurdling scream tore out of his throat.

Ace's blank eyes were replaced with yellow swirls, ones that seemed to drag Hush's very being into them. It was as if his own body curled along with the swirls as his mind fell into chaos, spinning and spinning as his descent continued unending.

* * *

From limp fingertips, lock picks fell to the floor, clinking against the solid surface and laying still beside a limp body held up only by a pair of handcuffs. Hush's bandaged head lolled to a side, mouth open beneath unseeing eyes. A bit of saliva drooled out, soaking the bandage wrapped against his skin.

The betrayed Ace glared up at the man she had trusted, using her power to alter perception to shove away the pain in her back and lower abdomen. Blood stained that part of her dual-colored leotard, soaking into the fabric with step she took.

She wasn't done yet, though. The young girl was tired, tired of being used by others. She decided that no one would use her, not again. However, there was still one person left, one person who could deny her a future, whatever it might be. He would need to be dealt with.

With careful steps, Ace headed down the hallway after her quarry. He was in this direction, she was sure.

He would not hide from her.

* * *

Booted feet slamming down on the concrete floor, Batman chased after Hurt, following Elliot's direction. He couldn't trust his old friend, but he had nothing else to go on. Hurt couldn't be allowed to escape, that much was certain.

Up ahead, he saw movement, one similar to that of a cape whipping about in the air. The dark cape then moved to the right, and the Dark Knight narrowed his eyes. There was only one other person he knew wearing such a cape here and would have cause to be running from him. It couldn't be Batgirl, because she would have noticed he was behind her by now, the movements didn't match the other vigilantes like Huntress either. It had to be Hurt.

Making the turn, he found a small hallway, at the end of which was a hole blown into the wall. He was suspicious of it, but knew that there was no other way Hurt could have gone. This was another trap, but there was no other way than to spring it.

His danger senses were screaming at him as he passed through the hole, finding that the walls around him were more natural, like those of a cave. It had to have been sealed off when Stonegate had been built. Of course, it led deeper into the earth and he followed the natural tunnel down as he continued the chase. To his frustration, he had to slow his pace down as the rock slanted downwards and became slicker due to groundwater naturally flowing down through both the walls and overhead.

Eventually, the path widened and the vigilante found himself entering a large cavern. Distinctly, he could hear running water, meaning there was an underground river or at least water flow. There was an eeriness to the area, though what the source of it was could not be identified. Lastly, there was a dim source of light, but for the life of him, he could not find where it was.

But none of it mattered. Standing further down the large, cavernous chamber stood Hurt who looked as if he had been waiting for him.

"If nothing else, I compliment you on your speed, Batman. You're a very fast runner," Hurt praised, showing no signs of intimidation. This was a man who could only engage in physical activity in short bursts; he showed no signs of being active enough to continue this chase, what from the way his shoulders raised up and down to give away he was breathing hard. Meanwhile, Batman himself had fought through an army of cartel assassins, Hush, the Royal Flush Gang, been buried alive, and came back to continue fighting, and he was in better shape.

That thought ended as the vigilante picked up a smell, one he immediately identified as blood. Damn it, and knowing Hurt, there had to have been some sort of blood ritual committed here to explain the presence. He had to keep in control and deal with this monster, not letting his personal disgust get in the way. "It's over, Hurt. I'm taking you in."

"On what charges?" Hurt taunted, throwing his arms out. "What do you have on me that will send me to prison? Or Arkham, as the case might be? Let me ask you, will it be a charge that the money of the Black Glove can't absolve me of? How long will I stay? Do you really think that the natural corruption of your city will keep me where you want me?"

Batman could think of many charges, from desecration of a grave, conspiracy, and murder if the blood spilled here was any indication. However, he responded, "I'm sure Gordon will know of something."

"Ah yes, Gordon. But he's not here. It's just you and me," the age old man retorted.

"Which is bad for you," the vigilante cut in, already sensing a bragging monologue approaching. "This is your final chance Hurt. Give yourself up."

Hurt gave a boisterous laugh. "Honestly, you've made it too easy. Do you know I didn't have to do any of this? Guam and the isolation experiment, resurrecting Elliot, this game I played to entertain my high rollers, none of it. All I really had to do was knock on your front door and wait for you or that girl to answer. Instead, I thought I would have some fun first, in the spirit of what you've made your life. And in spite of everything, you still do not know why I've gone through all this time and effort, what I've really been after."

"It's obvious; you want to kill me," Batman stated.

Hurt let out a laugh. "So simple. No, your death has _never_ been the goal. Not when you have a grand destiny that I must usher in."

"What destiny?" Hurt was a man with delusions of grandeur, yet these delusions were also his primary motivation.

"Why, to serve as a vessel, one to carry my master into the world," the insane old one exclaimed, gesturing high with one arm. This piece of information was slightly alarming; Hurt wasn't the man behind this plot? Who else was involved? Wait, could it be? The name of the entity that had been cropping up recently, the same one that had drawn Ra's al Ghul into Gotham during the war with Bane, as well as the one whom Corrigan claimed had been worshiped by this very man in Wayne Manor. "Your clarity of mind and purity of soul was never necessary. Only your body, to serve as a wagon, that is all that was required. While you haven't gone through the whole treatment yet, there are other ways to fulfill the same goal.

"Don't you feel it? How the air seems to dance around us?" Hurt was positively manic, the face nearly split in half by a twisted smile that spoke only of madness. "He's here. He's close. He's opportunistic, and this opportunity is far too tempting to pass up. Behold, Bruce, my master.

"BARBATOS!"

The darkness behind Hurt seemed to move...no, part. Moving aside as if to usher in something hidden within. There were a pair of winks of light, far away in the distance; it was easy to think that it was a trick of the mind. The lights winked back into existence, closer now than before. The color was a pinkish-purple, and they seemed to shape themselves into a pair of horizontally slit eyes. Again the lights flashed out, then appear once more, closer, and beginning to unveil what seemed to be a cowled head.

Much like a hood, it draped over and wisped in front of a face that remained clad in darkness. Two horns much like the ones on the vigilante's mask extended up and out from the cloaked head. It remained translucent, but Batman had the feeling it was gray in color, but again, he wasn't sure if this was an illusion, or an afterimage, or what else.

But he could feel whatever this was, Barbatos as Hurt claimed it was, was watching him, zeroing in on his mortal frame and freezing him with its unnaturalness. The only reason Batman found that he could move was relying on conditioned responses, such as the one that always had his hands going to his belt in times of uncertainty.

A crushing pressure suddenly clasped down on him, his arms pinned to the sides of his body. Then the vigilante's feet lifted off the ground until he was hovering several feet above it. He tried to struggle, trying to twist and squirm his body out of this unyielding hold. Yet this force held onto him without giving any weakness that could be exploited.

Below, on the cavern floor, Hurt stood with an arm extended out, his fingers curled as if they were holding something. It was a physical manifestation of what was happening to him, as if the man was literally holding the Dark Knight in his hand.

"There is no way out of this one," Hurt taunted. "No amount of skill or luck will save you this time."

Batman grunted, still trying to resist and break out. There was always a way out, he just needed to find—

The tightness of the pressure increased, stilling all movement. It was getting difficult to breathe, and his lungs were starting to burn. He was not going to give up, and especially not because this bastard told him to.

"Still resisting, Bruce?" Hurt tightened the hold, and this time brought about pain throughout the hovering man's body. "Even to the last, but no matter. A little oxygen deprivation should make you more agreeable." A curled, gloved thumb bent closer to its four brothers, and simultaneously, Batman felt a stabbing pressure on his chest. His lungs were no longer able to get as much air as his body needed, and the reflexive instinct to gasp was behind denies. Panic was attempting to take hold and it was a struggle not to give into it.

Clenching his teeth together so as to focus himself, the vigilante glared down from his restrained position at the man with the wicked smirk. There was no way he would let this man know he was getting the better of him, nor would he make any sounds to egg him on.

"Give in," the wickedly dressed ancestor coaxed. "Give in and allow my master what he wants. It'll be easier for all around."

No. No! He wouldn't give Hurt the satisfaction. He wouldn't let that...that..._thing_ behind that bastard do what it wished with him. He...he was…

"Gah!" Hurt suddenly cried out, raising a hand to his head as he slammed his eyes shut. For a second, Batman felt the invisible hold over him weaken, and he took the chance to fight his way out of it. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to, even though he found he could squirm about.

"Ace? Is that you?" the doctor called out, cracking open one eye. "Now is not a good time for teenage rebellion."

Batman's eyes darted to a side, in the same direction that he could see Hurt's head turned towards. To his shock, the very girl whose aid he had come to stood there, seemingly ignoring the state of her body as she faced the man for whom she had once held loyalty towards. He didn't know why she chose now of all times to rebel, but this was the only time he found himself agreeing with his captor in that this was not the time. Not with that creature, Barbatos, watching over all of them.

The vigilante tried to speak, to warn Ace to get out of there, but the mystical hold that held him prevented him from getting enough air to make any kind of noise that wasn't a wheeze.

Hurt took an unexpected step back, bringing his free hand towards his head. "Stop it," the ancestral Wayne ordered, and his balance began to waver. Disorientation, probably similar to the one that he had expected back at the GCPD. Perhaps if she could disorient Hurt enough, he'd be able to break free.

Then Hurt snapped his free hand out, his hand taking up the same grasping gesture that held the Dark Knight. Ace's body trembled and soon she too was levitated up into the air. It was hard to tell, but Batman could have sworn he heard the girl cry out with that too soft voice of hers.

"You just had to obey, girl," Hurt claimed as he opened both of his eyes, glaring up at his latest victim. As he increased the pressure by moving his fingers inward, Ace gave out a cry of pain that was anything but soft. "I have no use for servants that disobey."

Batman wanted to yell, to shout, to demand that this bastard stop what he was doing, to let Ace go, to not do what he knew this ages old man was able to do. But he couldn't; all that was in his power was to jerk his unresponsive body to and fro, and only managing to get his head to turn just enough that he could look at the helpless girl.

The very helpless girl who's eyes were on him, pleading.

"Help...me…"

Hurt's hand clenched into a fist.

There was a loud crunching sound and a mist of blood that exploded out of the frail body. Batman's eyes widened in horror, his jaw falling open. A piercing pain stabbed into his head and this time he was able to get out a scream, even as what remained of Ace was dropped to the cavern floor, landing with a sickening splat.

Through the pain that was gradually ebbing away, he could hear Ace's murderer taunt, "Looks like you failed another one, Bruce. In the end, you will always fail when it matters most." The magical pressure returned, and this time it was the sole reason for the scream that tore out of him. "Give in, and the pain stops. All of it."

No, damn it, no! Never! Never to this monster, never to the thing he served. He would never give up, could never give up. He would never say the words that animal wanted to hear.

Even when he couldn't save Alfred, or protect Ace, at least he wouldn't let their sacrifices be in vain. Even if...even if this ended up costing him his life, it would the only price that Batman would allow himself to pay now.

"This is getting old, Bruce," Hurt complained, glowering up at him. "I can do this all day, but I have no plans to remain while your allies make good on my Black Glove. If you won't give in willingly, I don't need your mind intact to hand you over to Barbatos. I still have my triggers planted in your mind; I just need to press them again."

Ignore him, don't give in. No matter what, you can't.

"So be it, hero," the doctor sneered. "Let's begin. Zur—"

A gunshot was fired, and a spurt of blood erupted from Hurt's shoulder, shocking him enough to drop the vigilante from his suspended height. The stress of being held and crushed in midair had taken its toll on him, and Batman found himself landing onto the ground in a heap, laying next to Ace's corpse.

"I'm gonna have to ask that you stop tormenting Gotham City vigilantes, and shut down any and all dimensional and reality-bending breaches affecting the mortal plane," Corrigan's demanding voice ordered. The detective was slowly approaching the scene, a simple firearm in hand which surprised Batman. If Zatanna was to be believed, Corrigan didn't need to use a gun, yet here he was doing exactly that.

"Who the hell are you?" Apparently, not even Hurt knew who the trenchcoat-wearing man facing him was.

"Nobody," Corrigan quipped. "Nobody but a man of Law and Order. This is your last chance to surrender yourself. Do so, and I promise you will live through this."

Hurt's eyes glared at the intruder in his grand design, one hand applying pressure to his injured shoulder while teeth clenched tightly for a moment before they separated. "And if I don't?"

"That's when things get real messy," Corrigan warned.

"...d…" Batman tried to warn. He couldn't allow another person to die helping him. Not again. However, he could barely speak, physical trauma caused by mystical means finally taking its toll on him.

"It's under control, Bats. I'll handle it from here," Corrigan called to him, trying to reassure the fallen vigilante.

His words were empty, predictably. The detective's arms were suddenly pinned to his sides and his gun fell to the cave floor before his body was lifted up into the air. Hurt's arm was extended, his hand in that curled, holding gesture.

It was going to happen again, wasn't it? Another person was about to lose their life while trying to save his.

Corrigan cried out, obviously in pain as he thrashed his head about, trying to kick his legs that barely moved. Hurt looked up at the captive man with an angry sneer. "Whoever you are, you accomplished nothing. Only to waste my time." Hurt's hand began to close, and Corrigan's movements began to still even as he grunted under the pressure affecting him.

As Batman watched on, powerless once more to prevent the outcome that was coming, he found himself looking to Ace. With his remaining strength, he dragged himself over to the girl, finding her dark eyes wide open. Staring into them, he watched as the light in them fade away, pupils widening as they were dilated. He couldn't help the moment of grief he felt as Ace's life was extinguished before his eyes, and now he was about to watch someone else die, watch how green smoke seemed to fume out of eyes that were...what?

As a green mist seemed to tinge the air in front of Corrigan's mouth, the captive detective was able to speak with a voice that was clearly heard by the dark-clad crimefighter. "You know that movie? The one where they closed their eyes, so to avoid being smited? I'd do the same thing right about now. You don't want to see what happens next."

It didn't make much sense, but recalling how Zana told him not to do anything wrong around this man, that's what he did. This whole night had taken so much out of him, that it was easy to obey, to not watch even as Hurt hand tightened and closed to seal Corrigan's fate.

Batman would only hear what happened next.

What he didn't see was how an enormous, green gloved hand erupted into existence and snatched Hurt in its grip. He did not see as the towering figure whom the hand belonged to rose above where Corrigan hovered, a pale white, muscular body clad in a green hood and cloak, as well as a black fabric that covered the lower body. Glowing green eyes glared down at the captive Hurt, showing no mercy as it lifted the doctor up into the air much like the madman had done to everyone else in this cave.

The cave walls seemed to pull away, as if not wanting to be in close proximity to the supernatural figure that now reigned within the naturally made walls. The shadows that had once filled unseen crevasses fled in terror, leaving no place for any evil to hide.

Hurt, always in control, always in power, now found himself in the same position that he had held his recent victims in, and like them, he could not escape the grip that possess him. The long-lived Wayne ancestor's eyes were wide, more expressive than they had ever been in decades.

The light of the green, glowing eyes silenced the normally chatty man before he could even speak. The supernatural newcomer took the privilege of speaking for itself. "**There will be no crossing here.**"

Finding his tongue, Hurt called out for his master. "Barbatos! BARBATOS!" He whipped his head around, trying to find the demonic entity that he had summoned into this world. To his increasing horror, he found no sign of the dark entity, its spectral image noticeably absent.

"**Your master has abandoned you,**" the newly arrived entity stated mercilessly, "**I am Spectre. I am Heaven's Blade, and you are a damned soul, one that has existed in the mortal realm far beyond his allotted time.**"

"No! NO!" Hurt cried out, giving a shriek as a very noticeable crack split his head, a supernatural green light pouring out of it.

"**I undo the tethers binding you to this body, and scatter your soul to the ether.**"

Hurt gave a final scream as the Spectre clenched its hand tightly. The doctor's body disintegrated into dust and ash, shooting into the air above and below the deity's hand. As green, gloved fingers opened, a damaged masquerade costume slipped through them, falling to the floor below as a horned, cloth mask fluttered behind it, no head for it to hold on to.

The Spectre was not finished. Turning its attention in the vague direction in which the Barbatos entity had made its presence known, Spectre raised a hand, green, supernatural energies flaring before they blasted into the void. "**This breach will be sealed.**"

The walls of the cavern shuddered, pulling back further from the holy fury of this divinity. As the energies completed their task, Spectre lowered its arm, no longer seeming to be in a mood of holy wrath.

"**It is done,**" Spectre intoned. "**It is law.**"

From its lower portion and climbing, its holy form began to dissipate, transforming into a green smoke that returned to the vessel that held it, the vessel known as Jim Corrigan.

However, in its zeal to defend this plane of existence, Spectre had compromised the integrity of the cave system, along with disturbing the fault line that ran nearby. As a result, tremors ran throughout the cave, large cracks breaking open the hard earth and growing wider with each passing second.

Boulder-sized rocks broke free of the ceiling, falling harshly to the cavern floor and landing with harsh booms. Amidst the earthen turmoil, Batman lay almost comatose, eyes still closed, and exhausted.

The vigilante couldn't even be bothered to attempt anything that could try to preserve his life. Not only his, but of others. Though Ace was unable to be saved, Corrigan still could be as his body too lay comatose. However, the earth heaved beside the unconscious detective and a large fissure formed. The rocky surface Corrigan laid on slanted, and he slid closer and closer to the dark fissure until he fell down into it, disappearing from sight.

The booms of boulders impacting the floor was all Batman could hear, though. They were like violent explosions, some quieter than others due to distance, while others were deafening as they came so close to hitting him. His breathing was all the vigilante could feel and it was the only thing that told him that he was still alive.

Just in...and out. That was what his world consisted of right now. Time only existed for his next breath, each of which may be his last.

His arm lifted up, curled around something solid, and rested there. The rest of his torso lifted up, propping up against a body. Batman shook his head; was he starting to hallucinate again? Had Hurt successfully activated one of his planted triggers? He detected some disorientation, so that was not out of the question.

"It's time to rise, young Master. That's it. One foot in front of the other now."

Batman gave a groan. He could swear...that that sounded so much like...but it had to be part of another hallucination, because there was no other way. Yet, he found himself obeying the prompting and...and when had he gotten back onto his feet? He couldn't remember…

"Come, come. Now's not the time to sleep in. It's time to rise."

The voice sounded so close to his ear, and Batman cracked opened his eyes. What he found was that he was on his feet, but he was being supported by someone at his side, a person who had placed the Dark Knight's arm over his shoulders and was acting as a crutch to help him move.

The most preposterous part of all this, though, was that he found a warm, smiling face, one that had decomposed years ago. Maybe this wasn't Hurt, but some residual from Ace, because that was Alfred beside him, helping him to walk.

"I do hope the long nights aren't taking their toll on you. You're much too young to be so sluggish," the deceased yet not deceased butler chided.

"Al...Alfred?" Batman gasped out, disbelief in his words and posture and...and everything…

"Who else would it be, Master Bruce?" Alfred replied, full of good humor.

"But you're...you're…" The improbability was too great, and even though he was a man of few words when not pretending to be a vapid playboy, the struggle to make any sense of his words was beyond what he was currently capable of for the moment.

"Let us not dwell on that too much. We may speak as we walk," Alfred urged, continuing to push or pull him forward.

"But...but you're here…"

"I never really left." Alfred looked wistful, sorrow causing lines of age to wrinkle his face.

There was a burning sensation in both his throat and his eyes. "Alfred...I'm...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I…"

"Now, now, it is no one's fault what happened. Had I known then what I know now, I still would have gone in there with my Winchester," Alfred cut him off, knowing as he always did what the younger man wanted to say. "If I could have changed anything, I would have checked the corners better."

"But it's...it's my fault," Batman protested. "I should have known what he was planning. I should have stopped him sooner."

"My boy, you never could let anything go. Listen to me well; I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a part of yours is not one of them. Everyday...even _that_ day, I do not regret a single one of them. It was an honor, and a privilege, to be by your side, even as you forged your new persona. And know this, I would do it all over again, no hesitation." Alfred's grip on his wrist tightened.

"There is only one thing I want, that I have ever wanted, and that is your happiness. Please, Sir, I want you to release yourself from this guilt. There are some things even Batman cannot stop, and you cannot blame yourself for not being perfect. I do not want you to destroy yourself because of me. Not only that, but there are those children and they need their father now, more than ever. Both that fine young lady, and the prodigal son."

Alfred paused, a thought occurring to him. "Of course, she needs to do a better job with the silverware. Tell her to clean each utensil off before and after use. Even when you remove them from the drawer, they still need to be wiped down."

Batman couldn't help it, he let out a laugh because he _missed this_ so much. Even now, the household chores that the man had taken care of were ones that he still wanted completed, and done so in a way that was perhaps more perfectionistic than anything Batman himself was capable of.

"How can you forgive me so easily?" the younger man asked.

"You already know the answer to that question, Bruce," Alfred chided once again. "It is love, the same love that I bore for you when I was still alive, and the same I have even now. You have grown so much, and I want nothing more than for you to continue growing. You have so much left to do and accomplish, and you won't do it in this place.

"If you want to honor me, or do right by me, then you just need to be yourself, the good man who puts others before himself, who cares so much about his fellow man. You do not need my forgiveness, because there was never a need for it. I never blamed you, and I hope that you can stop blaming yourself."

The burning in his throat prevented Batman from saying anything else. Alfred's words were like a balm to his soul, healing wounds that he had long forgotten were there.

"Now go, Sir. The others are waiting for your return, and a gentleman does not leave his guests waiting," Alfred said, slipping out from underneath the Dark Knight's arm and pulling away, much to Batman's reluctance. At some point, the eroded walls of the cave system had been replaced with the man-made ones of Stonegate, though cracks had formed in them as well, compromising the complex's integrity.

"Wait, please come with me," Batman...Bruce pleaded, stretching out an arm to his oldest and dearest friend.

Alfred shook his head in the negative. "I'm sorry, young sir, but this is as far as I can go, and my time here is almost at its end. While it pains me, you need to go now."

"No, don't leave me again." Now Bruce was begging, his legs a little unstable but strengthened from the walking that he hadn't paid any mind to.

"I never have left you, Bruce," Alfred told him. "I never will. However, I do need to return to those I serve now, but one day we'll reunite, and hopefully not because you did something stupid like suffer another life-threatening wound. There is only so much I can do to patch you up."

"Alfred…" Bruce stretched his arm out, hoping to grasp onto the retreating butler.

"Fare you well, Master Bruce. May you never stray from your path." Alfred turned, his back facing his former charge as he began to leave once more.

"Alfred!" The urgency in Bruce's voice had heightened, but then he spotted something behind the retreating man.

There were two of them, two individuals who stood further down the hallway, watching them. One was a man, the other a woman. The man was dressed in a suit while the woman was in a dress and bore a necklace around her neck. There was something so familiar about them, and he felt no threat from either of them. Only a yearning, a love that he had only felt—

The ceiling collapsed, blocking off the sight of Alfred and the two figures, forever separating them from the emotionally heightened man.

"ALFRED!" Batman shouted, running towards the barrier of cement and sheetrock, pounding his fist against the blockade though he knew it would amount to nothing. The shaking of his surroundings reminded him that he was in danger, and that the rest of it could come crashing down on him at any moment.

_You have so much left to do and accomplish, and you won't do it in this place._

Tightening his fist, Batman clenched his teeth so tightly that he felt as if the enamel would crack under the pressure. Though he wanted nothing more than to break through the dead end in front of him, he knew in his heart that he couldn't stay here either.

If he wanted to honor Alfred's memory, then he needed to live.

Tearing himself away, Batman set off in a dead run, ignoring the tears that seeped from beneath his mask and down his cheeks.

* * *

The looming image of Stonegate began to tremble. It was slow at first, but with each passing second the tremors grew more and more noticeable. Cracks began to form on the stone surface of the building, small ones at first that steady grew larger.

Then there was a loud _CRACK!_ It was deafening, damn near like thunder. Then large chunks of the prison broke away, collapsing in piles on the ground.

Within the building, Hush's catatonic body remained where it laid, heedless of the destruction occurring around it. As cracks formed around the body, they eventually gave way and the resurrected man fell down with the collapsing debris, not once making an attempt to preserve himself.

Then the roof caved in and what remained of the walls fell inward. It was as if Stonegate was imploding, sucking itself into the dark recesses of an unknown abyss beneath it. A tide of dust, dirt and smoke rolled away from the collapsing prison. The cloud was fast and large at first, shrinking with every passing foot until it reached its apex, petering out with a whimper.

It was at this point where the Network had gathered. Surrounding them were the remaining members of the 99 Fiends, the ones that were too injured or unconscious to escape. There was perhaps a handful unaccounted for. Amongst them were the Royal Flush Gang, restrained and magically induced into comas courtesy of Zatanna. No way were they going to allow superpowered teens to keep fighting, not after the night they had.

Towards the outskirts of the group was Gordon and his officers, surrounding a small group of richly dressed socialites. Each one looked as if they wanted to be buried within the collapsing prison, their hands restrained by handcuffs behind their backs.

Towards the prison-side of the group was most of the Network. A few were patrolling within the mob to make sure none of the Fiends got any ideas of resisting arrest, another couple on the opposite side to block off the most likely flight point.

The closest of the vigilantes to Stonegate was Batgirl. The moment Stonegate began its collapse, she had ventured towards it. In fact, the dust cloud was washing up against the toes of her boots, that's how close she was. Her body was filled with unease, her back stiff as she stared intently on the building.

It didn't take much thinking to know why she was so apprehensive. Batman had yet to emerge from the prison, so it stood to reason he was right in the middle of it. However, if there was one person that could make it out unscathed, it would be him. They had maybe a couple minutes before the smaller Bat took off to dig him out if he didn't show up soon.

Zatanna was then at her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," she said comfortingly. "He'll come back. He always does."

"Except when he doesn't," someone said snidely. Admittedly, a couple of the vigilantes thought that, but never would they say it in front of the girl. Zatanna whipped her head around to glare at the offender, looking straight into the crowd of Fiends. There wasn't any gloating, or retort in response to her look.

"I see someone," Nightwing announced, the vigilante having taken a post up in a nearby tree. He looked completely comfortable in the tree branch as he stared at the prison.

Batgirl shifted her weight where she stood, seeming to rise up on her tip-toes, except not. It was hard to say since her cape hid most of her body, including her feet.

As the group looked to the collapsing building, a dark figure appeared within the dust cloud. It was more of a spot than anything. As second after second passed, it grew bigger, slowly taking shape.

And then Batman emerged into sight. He had a noticeable limp and one of his arms dangled limply at his side, but he trudged out of the cloud with a single-minded purpose.

Batgirl just stared towards him, surprisingly holding her ground far longer than anyone would have thought possible. Finally, she moved towards him, Zatanna's hand falling off her shoulder as she hurried over to the Bat. The two came to a stop perhaps a step or two away from each other, each one regarding the other.

Then Batgirl closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face into his torso. For a moment, Batman stood there awkwardly before he moved his alleged good arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Turning them to one side, they soon had their profile to the group, though the reason for it became apparent when Batman turned his head to look at Stonegate.

And then Talia was at their side, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. "You are victorious once more, Beloved," she congratulated him.

Batman glanced to her before numbly nodding his acknowledgement. That caused Talia's visible eye to narrow. "You disagree?"

"Hurt is gone," he replied dully, "though I doubt he'll hurt anyone again—ever. He killed a little girl though, just to hurt me. I can't stand it."

A sympathetic look appeared on the dark-haired woman's face. "Your compassion is admirable." She then placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, taking a step closer to the dark-clad man. If it weren't for the clinging Batgirl, it was certain she would have embraced him as well. "What's important is that she was avenged. You can take solace in that."

That's when Gordon approached the three. "And Hush?" he asked, practically demanded. "Where is he?"

Batman nodded towards Stonegate. "Buried underneath a thousand tons of rock, stone, and cement. I had him restrained, but when I went to retrieve him, he was checked out. Whatever Hurt was doing to sustain him obviously ended with him."

"So he escapes justice?" the Commissioner seethed.

"He is in a prison," Talia responded then. "Albeit underneath one. What better place for a villain to be entombed?"

Gordon looked at the woman before returning his attention to Stonegate. Anger and rage glared at the collapsed prison, but no further words left him. Slowly, the commissioner's face became a hard mask, one that could have given rock a run for its money.

"You do have plenty of Hurt's men to prosecute," Zatanna added belatedly as she joined the conversation, walking up to the group. "If it weren't for them, none of this would have happened. Hurt wouldn't have had to resort to bringing Hush back from the dead and he wouldn't have done any of the terrible things he did."

"Then I better make sure the charges stick." Gordon straightened out his posture. "Maybe let Bullock show them what excessive force really means." He sighed then. "It still doesn't make it better."

"It won't." Batman spoke then. Slowly, he turned his head to the one man he could maybe call friend. "For a long time, nothing will."

"When will it?"

There was a deafening silence before the vigilante said, "I'll let you know when I find out." He then squeezed his arm tighter around Batgirl. "But family helps."

Gordon numbly nodded. Then, "I better call into the station. I want to make sure none of these animals gets away." Then he turned to trudged off.

There was a silence before Zatanna asked, "So what now?"

Batman didn't bother turning to look at her. "Now we go home."

* * *

Author's Note: To the reviewer PhoenixFire150, who made a prediction all the way back in chapter 20, your feeling was right on the money. Well, I hope this climax was everything people hoped it would be. However, as you can tell, we're one chapter away from this being done. Word on what comes next, of course, will be revealed then, but for the time being, it looks like Batman has faced his eleventh hour and come out, whether whole or not will remain to be seen.


	33. Skeletons

Author's Note: Here's the final chapter to this latest of epics. Batman has survived his eleventh hour, but I know what you guys want to know. What comes next? Find out at the bottom, but in the meantime, enjoy.

Skeletons

**I tried to find a way to bury all the pain**

**But these skeletons, these skeletons, these skeletons**

**Won't sleep.**

**You gave me clarity and showed me how to free**

**These skeletons, these skeletons, these skeletons in me**

**These skeletons in me**

**Skeletons by Heartist**

* * *

The chirping of crickets was the only sound the interrupted the late hours of night. The seismic activity around Stonegate had ended hours ago, and all had returned to an uneasy equilibrium, slowly returning to the status quo that normally held rule.

Then Corrigan burst out of the Gotham River, gasping for air and crawling onto the bank.

Minutes passed as the detective caught his breath, his clothes utterly soaked and weighing him into the muddy earth that lined the river. Eventually, as he adjusted to having air, he began to compose himself in the only way he knew how.

"Sure, come out at the last second why don't you? Bring the whole damn place down while you're at it? Dump me in some underground river and let me get washed out to sea, you holy bastard," Corrigan grumbled as he pulled himself further onto dry land. The washing out to sea bit was a little exaggerated, but falling into an underground source of water hadn't.

The redhead detective couldn't list every single time he had been placed in a situation unwittingly by the Heaven's Blade that could very well get him killed, but so far hadn't. It was like he was utterly invincible in the hours after an appearance by the white and green deity.

Complaining always gave the soaked man a sense of regaining control, so he did that every time. It wasn't easy being a vessel for a very Old Testament, Wrath of God entity whose only thoughts were about maintaining the balance that kept this world of theirs afloat, no pun intended.

Composing himself further, Corrigan got back onto his feet, grimacing as his shoes squelched. Oh, it was going to be a while before he got everything dried out.

"Hey, why don't next time, you do the investigating and finding the deranged blood mage and I'll be the one throwing their divine wrath around, hmm? Maybe you can find out what it's like to have to learn how to hold your breath for longer than ten minutes, or dig yourself out from a ton of dirt, or like that one time I had to crawl out of a heap of garbage at a city dump."

The less said about that last one, the better.

Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, and wincing at the chill that ran through them with the contact between soaking fabric and skin, Corrigan glanced in the estimated direction of where Stonegate should have been.

It was typical at this point.

But that was the way of it; another thing that the detective had come to terms with. So like all the other times, he did what he always had to do and start heading on to his next case. What it would be, Corrigan did not know, but what he did know was that it would be as crazy as the last one. They always were, but one could hope that it would be mundane.

Knowing life, though, Corrigan also knew that he could forget about anything being mundane in his life.

* * *

It hadn't been a surprise for Talia when she learned that the wealth of the Black Glove's members had been enough for them to post bail. Each one was making their way out of the country, and returning to their lands of origin or to a non extradition country. They were trying to escape justice.

It was a good thing that retribution had always been her forte.

The first she had caught up with was a man known as Cardinal Maggi, a beloved priest known for his humanitarian work and efforts to help the poor and destitute in Italy, primarily in the region of Florence. A beautiful city that, like this man, held a dark, ugly side to it.

However, Maggi was heading to the Vatican, which made it so much easier to intercept him. For a man who was supposed to be a champion of the downtrodden and vulnerable, he had amassed enough wealth to own his own private jet. Such a jet happened to possess quite the collection of alcoholic beverage which was easy to tamper with.

Maggi had been quick to go for a drink, and a mild sedative had rendered him unconscious. That had allowed Talia to board and get comfortable while the crew was substituted with her own loyal subordinates. Take off had been simple enough after that and it was only until they were far into their journey over the Atlantic that she began to proceed.

She had timed everything, including the duration of how long the sedative would last. She waited for Maggi to show signs of natural sleep before she encouraged him to wake up with a vicious slap.

Talia al Ghul would not be gentle with anyone who had any involvement in harming her Beloved, even if it was a self-proclaimed champion of the weak.

Maggi groaned and placed a hand on the side of his face, whimpers of pain seeping through his fingers. While he recovered, Talia relaxed in her seat and gave the priest a moment to compose him. Once that moment was over, she began to speak.

"Greetings, Cardinal. We have business to resolve between us, you and I."

As his hand slipped off his face, Maggi looked dumbly at her, not recognizing her in the slightest. "Young lady, why have you assaulted me?"

"My reason is my own, and the least of your concerns," Talia retorted, watching the religious man much as a predator would. "What is your concern is that I am here for retribution."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, my daughter. If it about the allegations against me in Gotham, I assure you—"

"I was there, Cardinal. I saw you with that very frock you wear and a mask of the domino variety. I listened in as Hurt named you. I know of your connections with the Black Glove, and if you seek to deceive me, your suffering will increase tenfold," she interrupted, in no mood to hear any denials. "Do not think that I will be finished once you are dealt with. The rest will follow you, of that you can believe."

To Maggi's credit, he did not try to fall back into denials. What he did do was just as annoying. "You do not know what forces you threaten here. We are not mere mortals, but men of influence and power. I myself play a key role in selecting the next pope, a position that reaches the ears of over a billion people. Who are you to threaten us?"

"I am the Daughter of the Demon, and little men like you are only _permitted_ by my father to play your little games. But the time for your games is over." Talia reached over to pluck a glass of wine, one she had poured earlier but had placed to a side in anticipation of this confrontation. "I already know the locations of each member of your cohort. I will be paying each one a visit in due time. No amount of power, influence, or wealth will protect you.

"However, I will not be the hand that strikes you down. That privilege belongs to another. Damian?"

Maggi frowned. "Damian?"

Taking a sip of the wine, she peered over the class as her son made his debut, wearing a gray cloak with the hood thrown off it to reveal his child-like head but stone-hard scowl. In one hand, the boy held an unsheathed katana, one with the crest of the al Ghuls inlaid into the handle.

"Meet the son of the Batman, the rightful heir to his mantle," Talia introduced.

The priest snapped his head back to face the Demon's daughter. "But-but he's but a child! You would dare to sully his soul with bloodshed?!"

The hypocrisy.

"I have shed more blood than you will even know, Maggi," Damian hissed as he tightened his grip on his sword. "Like the rest, I won't remember you after I'm finished with you."

Talia nodded as she added one last instruction. "Take care not to damage the plane, my son. Doing so would be an inconvenience, but it is one I would prefer to avoid."

"You can't do this!" Maggi exclaimed, his voice full of fear.

Here, there was no holiness to hide behind, no money, no salvation. There was only death, and one that would be contagious as the Black Glove would be hunted down one by one.

Perhaps Hurt had said it best when he had remarked that their sins had caught up with them.

* * *

The gray overcast felt appropriate and matched Gordon's mood. Dreary yet you had to keep moving because there was no other choice but to move. The emotional roller coaster had not ended with the destruction of Stonegate, the prison burying the people responsible for the latest tragedy in his life.

Sarah's absence could still be felt, even as he gripped the handles on Barbara's wheelchair, pushing his daughter forward and away from the funeral services that had concluded. He could only stay so long, receiving so many well-wishers offering sympathy, telling him how great of a woman Sarah had been.

The commissioner didn't need to hear any of that; he already knew that his wife had been great.

Feeling a hand place itself on his, the older man glanced down briefly to see Barbara had placed hers on his. It was an offering of comfort, and he didn't reject it. Right now, she was the only family he had who was still in contact with him. His first wife had been smart enough to leave when she had, taking his only son with her. How many years had it been since he had last heard from Junior? It was hard to say.

"Daddy?" Barbara asked when it became clear he wasn't about to say anything. "How are you doing? Please talk with me."

Gordon barely reacted; of course it would be a matter of time until his sharp minded daughter picked up on something being wrong. She was _his_ daughter after all. She had mentioned many times to Sarah that she had inherited her best traits from him.

"_You couldn't have picked a better man to inherit anything from."_

That had been Sarah's response then, and it was comforting right now. He could use a lot of comforting that, unfortunately, he would not be able to get from who he needed it from.

"Daddy?"

Oh. Barbara was talking to him. Okay, he needed to get it together, and answer her.

"Could you repeat the question. I'm...I didn't hear you," the commissioner confessed.

Barbara had turned her head around, looking up at him from over her shoulder. "I asked how you were doing. I need to know if you're okay."

Reflexively, Gordon wanted to give his daughter his usual answer whenever concern was directed to him. It was the same response fathers gave to their children no matter what the circumstances were, for whatever reason. However, for this father, he found that that standard answer wasn't forthcoming.

"It's...it's been a rough time." They say honesty is the best policy, but the one person you always had trouble being honest with was yourself. This answer he gave was perhaps the first time he was being honest, not only with his daughter, but with himself. "I...I can't lie to you that I've been fine lately."

Barbara squeezed his hand. "I know it hasn't been easy for you, but we're going to get through this. Remember when I had my accident? You didn't leave me alone then. Neither did Sarah. So now it's my turn. I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with this. I'm going to be there for you. I'm going to take care of you now."

Gordon shook his head, his mouth threatening to smile wryly. "But it's the parent's job to take care of their children, not the other way around."

"But you're a dad. When was the last time you did your own laundry?" his paraplegic angel retorted.

Sad to say, he could not answer that question.

"I'm going to be fine, Barbara. What I need you to do is to focus on you. You're about to graduate, right? Have you thought about where you're going to apply yet?"

"Dad, we're here to talk about you." Now she was giving him a stern look that reminded him so much of her mother, it was scary.

"I'm going to be fine. It'll take time, these things always do, but I will recover. I just...need to remember how to use the washing machine again is all."

Barbara gave a huff as she turned back around in her wheelchair. Her hand remained on his, though, never leaving it. "You better not pick up on smoking again."

Gordon was not about to tell her that he had been thinking of picking that habit up again. Looks like he if he did, he was going to have to hide the cigarettes again.

"I won't," he assured, though his tone was that of a person who was long-suffering and had heard the same criticism over and over again.

"Dad." Barbara paused for a moment, considering her words before pressing forward. "I don't want to lose you too. Sarah's gone, and I'm worried about you. I'm so...so worried about you."

Gordon could feel a burning in his throat, and he swallowed in a vain attempt to push it down. "I know," he answered, saying no more than that. Even now, those words, that Sarah was gone, they still hurt. The idea of having to continue living and carrying on the good fight without her, after all these years of her being by his side, was a difficult one that was now his reality.

Would he be able to continue on? Could he still be commissioner of Gotham, fighting against whatever else came next to threaten everything they knew and loved? Those were questions he found he was going to have to answer.

Deep down, he was scared to know that he felt the answer to both of those questions was no.

Deep down, he wished that Sarah was here to turn that no into a yes.

* * *

She should take the night off. It would be the smart choice. After everything that happened at Stonegate and the cleanup afterwards, just about everyone was tired. Add on top of that their day jobs and you had the makings of a very tired group of vigilantes.

For Helena, it was her school kids. They were too damn excitable and energetic for her right now, even as the last several nights were starting to catch up to her. She also had too much school work left to finish too, papers and worksheets to grade, that whole jazz. She needed to call Dinah, or Kate, or Katana—someone.

And still she went through the motions. With the Birdcage out of commission for the foreseeable future, the Birds had moved back in with the Batclan at the Bat-bunker. They were in the process of removing whatever leftover booby traps there were, but fortunately they had been able to clear a space from the door to the locker room. Opening her locker, Helena began stripping out of her civies and dress in her costume.

Shirt and pants were replaced with a full-length bodysuit. Boots and gloves were tossed onto a nearby bench, ready for one she sat down to put them on. Picking up her mask, she stared at it tiredly before she sighed and began to turn towards the bench.

The moment she passed by the open door to her locker, Helena caught sight of someone standing nearby. Reflexively, the dark-haired woman shoved her mask in front of her face as she jumped back a step. There, looking at her like a goddamn innocent child, was Batgirl.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Helena swore before she glared at the girl. "Do you mind?"

Batgirl shook her head, but didn't so much as move to give her privacy. Grumbling under her breath, Helena maneuvered her mask into place, dropping her hands so that she cross them in front of her chest. "What do you want?" she demanded.

Almost as if she were using magic—and the purple-clad woman wouldn't put it past the girl considering the company she kept and all that had happened lately—Batgirl pulled out a photograph and held it up to her. "There's a new crime scene," she spoke succinctly.

_And?_ Helena stared at the girl and the picture before she moved to the bench, plopping down on it as she began sliding her boots on one foot at a time. "Yeah, and?"

"We need to investigate."

Helena paused. "We?" she repeated as she looked up to the girl. "What, isn't Batman going to go over it with you? I thought he was going to teach you detective work now that you're on better terms."

"Batman needs rest." Oh great, even the big, bad Bat was taking a night off. She really needed to reconsider calling in. "And you promised to teach. So teach."

Demanding little thing, wasn't she? "I'm not sure if tonight is a good night," she answered, hanging her head slightly as she began contemplating if Dinah was the right person so badger about a night off. Meh, she would just have to deal with it.

"But the killer will get away if we don't solve," Batgirl pressed, suddenly right next to the older woman. Jesus, she was quiet. "Teach."

Goddamn all that was holy. "Alright! Alright," Helena relented. Seriously, why was this happening to her? Yeah, she had that ulterior motive of getting Batgirl involved with the Birds, but right now it felt as if that plan was backfiring, biting her on her tired ass. "Just tell me one thing: where did you get the picture?"

"I had it made."

Uhh, duh. "I mean, where did you get it made?"

"Batman. He printed it for me and told me to bring it to you since you were teaching me."

An incredulous look appeared on Helena's face as she stared at the girl. Batman...had shoved a case...onto her? And he used his sidekick as the delivery girl?

_That son of a bitch..._

* * *

It wasn't to the bunker that Dick called the girls in. Until it could be cleared of any other goodies that the Black Glove left for them, he wasn't about to consider using it as a meeting place. The park was chosen instead, due to the fact that people tended to ignore you there unless your dog went number two and you didn't pick it up. It also happened to be one of the ones made thanks to nobody being able to clean up all the plant life from Pamela Isley's attempt to turn it into a new Eden.

Harper and Stephanie showed up at the same time, side by side. Dick speculated if they had run into one another on the way here, then decided that it wasn't important. The only thing that was, was that they were still alive.

"Yo!" Harper greeted as the two girls approached him. "This isn't the usual place."

"Feeling a little exposed here," Stephanie admitted, eyes searching out for anyone walking too close or being in eyesight. Good girl, she had learned from last time.

"It's fine," he said, gesturing them towards a bench. "You'd be surprised about what you can talk about in public if you know how to do it right. This won't take long."

"Is it about where we're going to meet up? I've been wondering about that," Harper commented as she willingly took a seat on the park bench, sprawling out and taking up more room than was physically possible for a teenage girl. She was like a freaking cat with its ability to defy the laws of physics.

"About that, I've been having some thoughts," Dick admitted, waiting for Stephanie to take up the rest of the space. So he didn't have a place to sit, eh? It was probably for the best, then.

"Well, glorious leader? Shoot," the punk-looking girl invited.

"This is something that's been on my mind for a while now. Since Red Hood." Immediately, he could see the pair of girls were on alert. The topic of Jason had been one they all, for one reason or another avoided. The mention of their fallen teammate's name was more than enough to tell them that this was going to be serious. "Didn't really have any reason to go any further, but then that night, you know the one with all the deathtraps?"

"How could I forget?" Stephanie grumbled as she crossed her arms, slouching in her seat. For a brief moment, the blonde teen looked away, obviously recalling that night.

"Anyway, that all put it into perspective for me," Dick continued, and now he was looking away from the girls. He crammed his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists before continuing, "There's been too many close calls. Way too many. Every month, this city keeps getting more and more dangerous."

Harper was sitting up straighter now, giving him a hard look. "You're not going where I think you're going with this."

Straightening his shoulders, Dick knew he had received his confirmation that this was about to blow up. "Effective right now, I am disbanding the Batclan."

"What!" Harper exploded while Stephanie's jaw fell open. "You can't do that! We need each other!"

"Girls, this is more for you than anything. Now's the time to get out," Dick said harshly, whipping his head around to stare Harper with her blue dye job down. "I'm not going to have one of you get killed, not on my watch. Either I end it now or next time we won't be so lucky. I'm not going to do that to you or your families."

"My 'dad' is in the clink; I only have my brother and he knows I go out to do this," Harper retorted. "There's no one else for me out here, so no, we are not breaking the Batclan up, even if I think we need a name change."

"What about Stephanie? She still has her mom and dad, both of whom would miss her," Dick argued back. It was curious how Stephanie didn't say anything, even when he was speaking for her. The blonde merely stared straight ahead, unseeing of what was going on around her. "I'm not going to let her risk her life and then have her family fall apart because of it. You mentioned it yourself, you have a brother, and I know he's dependent on you. You both have people who will miss you; I don't."

"We'll miss you," Stephanie said softly.

"And I appreciate it, but right now, it is because I care for you two that I am doing this in the first place," Dick pressed.

"What, is it because we're not Red Robin or Oracle?" Harper demanded, standing up from her seat to try and glare him down. It was an intimidating look, but he had been up close with Batman so he was able to endure it. "You let a little kid run around with you—"

"And now he can't stay here anymore," he interrupted. "This took his Gotham privileges away. I'll admit, I never should have let him join, and I keep making mistake after mistake, but this is one I won't make or wait to happen."

"Fine then!" Harper shouted, arms at her sides and so tense they looked like they would come swinging at the older male any second. "Fine! I'll just—"

"And no costumes."

"You can't do that!"

"No costumes, Harper!" he snapped. "I already know what you're going to do; you're going to try and continue solo, but I'm not having it. I've already removed your uniform, both of yours."

Harper repeated herself, "You can't do that! You can't tell me what I can or can't do!"

"Watch me," he said grimly, his voice lowering. "We both know how this will end. This is hard enough, Harper. Maybe one day you'll forgive, but until then feel free to be angry at me. I would rather you hate me and live, than love me and join Jason. Go home, both of you. You are both retired, and I will not see you out here again."

"What gives you the right?" Now Stephanie was speaking up, and she was looking up, making eye contact.

"At the end of the day, I'm an orphan. No one misses those," Dick state as he turned away from the girls. "Goodbye Stephanie, Harper. It was nice working with you. Now go home and stay inside at night."

Harper shouted after him, but Dick was having none of it. He kept walking forward and away from the pair. This was for the best. One wrong move back in the bunker would have had them killed, and he wasn't going to be carrying another dead body.

He was fine with this. He really was.

His eyes were clear, even with the tears that ran down his cheeks.

* * *

To think that the reason that they had been kept in Gotham was because of a Batman tour. That's what Victor and Garfield had been doing right before that fight at that casino.

And now they were finishing it. The group of mostly superpowered teens were heading back to the yacht, the same one with the engine that was still busted up. Apparently, the parts to fix it took a lot of time to come in, and that was with Oracle trying to ship some their way.

Tim was absolutely tired. However, earlier this morning, he had gotten a call from his former teammate that the parts should arrive later today. That meant they could get to work on getting the boat fixed and sailing off back to Jump. if only airlines were an option, but try fitting Victor through one of the metal detectors. Sure, the cyborg teen had offered to walk back, but no one was having any of that.

They were all heading back to Jump together or not at all. At least, that was what Tim thought the consensus was.

Nonetheless, it had been a nice little walk down memory lane. He'd even pointed out a few places he had been at, or where he knew Batman to have been specifically. Naturally it was stuff you weren't going to find on the internet.

"So, was it worth it?" Raven asked, her small form dwarfed by both Victor and Kori on either side of her. Her words were obviously directed towards the Batman fanboys whose devotion was not dimmed in light of her pointed words.

"Yep!" both cyborg and shapeshifter chirped. The looks of happiness on their faces made them absolutely immune to Raven's sarcasm.

"And that's what I get for interacting with morons," the pale-skinned girl grumbled, looking away with a blank face. Her bottom lip betrayed her pout.

"I have much enjoyed our time here, when we were not in danger of our lives being ended prematurely," Kori remarked. Had she not been warned numerous times, she would have been floating her way alongside the band of teenagers. At least she understood it as an Earth thing that she needed to be using her feet instead.

"Okay, guys, I hope you two got it out of your system now," Tim stated as he became the first to walk up the yacht's gangplank. Sneakered feet tromped up the slanted surface until they reached the deck.

"Dude, you're being such a buzzkill. I mean, when's the next time we're coming back!" Garfield said, though his voice sounded more like a whine. While Tim's first thought was _never_, after everything since Bane throwing Batman out into the streets, he knew that that was debatable at this point.

"Green Bean, are you that stupid? Because I think Batman made it obvious he doesn't want us here. At all." That was a bit surprising, what with it being Cassie coming to his rescue. The whole back and forth, with him, against him roller coaster ride was becoming exhausting. Still, the dark-haired teen would be grateful for any assistance.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, outstayed our welcome. We got it," Victor said dismissively as he followed after Tim. The two of them were leading the way towards the back of the boat where hopefully the repair parts would be waiting for them. You'd think someone would have stacked them on the pier next to the large boat but so far, there had been no sign of any of it.

"Somehow, I doubt it," Raven said dryly, and Tim found himself agreeing with that.

As he reached the back of the yacht, he found a frown growing on his face. There were no boxes or crates of anything waiting to be unpackaged or taken apart. Jeez, what was taking so long? Then his frown deepened as he noticed a new detail, or in this case a lack of one.

See, when King blasted the engine, it left black scorch marks all around the stern. The remnants of that attack were nowhere to be found, as if they had all been scrubbed away, leaving the stern looking spotless and pristine. Becoming curious, Tim approached the engines, and found himself stopping when he saw that the destroyed motors were replaced, all brand new and ready to be turned on. Heck, even the portion of the yacht that covered them was replaced.

"I am confused. Did this portion of our vessel appear different before?" Kori had caught on, that was how obvious the changes were, no offense implied..

"I think someone fixed the boat," Victor said dumbly. "My scans, they're all coming back with everything one hundred percent. What the hell's going on?"

"Wait, did someone sneak on the boat to fix it?" The confusion was spreading, and Garfield's was the best voice to give it form.

"Yo Red!" Cassie called out. When coming on board, the blonde had headed in a different direction, into the bowels of the yacht itself. Now she was coming out of it, a piece of paper in hand. "I think this is for you!"

Holding out a hand, Tim accepted it once Cassie had gotten close enough to hand it to him. The rest crowded around him, curious as to what the paper said as the teen began to read what it said.

_You owe me a boat_

That's it. That's all it said. Since this was something he did know, Tim knew that this wasn't Barbara's handwriting. Plus, she would have contacted him by now. At least, he hoped she would have. Her tendency to rub things in would have never let her keep her mouth shut.

"This mean anything?" Cassie asked breaking the silence.

"It's not Oracle," Tim stated, speaking aloud as he tried to wrap his mind around this. "If it wasn't her…"

"Do I really have to say it?" When five blank looks answered her, Raven rolled her eyes. "There's only one person left who wants us out." The blank looks continued. "Batman did it."

Oh, that made sense.

"Whoa," Garfield spoke, green eyes wide and he looked back at the slip of paper, the same one that was suddenly snatched up by Victor. "Hey!"

"Dude, do you know what this means!" the cyborg teen explained. Without waiting for anyone to make a guess, he answered, "This is his handwriting! Dawg, this is Batman's Goddamn handwriting!"

"No way!" Ouch, that octave was way too loud for a guy to make, no matter how young they were. Tim was already digging a finger into his ear as if to soothe the ringing he kept hearing. "But that means…!"

"That's right," Victor confirmed, sharing an excited look with the other half of his brain, "We have the next best thing to his autograph!"

"Dude! We gotta protect it!"

"I know!"

Oh great, and there was the fanboygasm. And they had to keep getting louder.

Pulling away, Tim found himself beside Cassie, watching as both Batman fanboys were trying to rush inside the yacht and accidentally wedging themselves in the door. Almost instinctively, he looked up to the blonde girl who simultaneously returned his gaze.

"You know, they aren't going to shut up about it the whole trip."

Tim had to stifle a groan. Oh, he _knew_. He knew so well.

"If they do, no one has to be a psychic to know what's going to happen next," Raven said. As her face took on a dark expression, "We may return to Jump with two less passengers."

* * *

It always seemed like a breeze was blowing when he visited this place. The wind always pulled at his dark trench coat, causing it to flap in the breeze.

At least there was only one gravemarker here instead of the two he had seen so long ago. The ground in front of Alfred's tombstone was disturbed, the grave recently refilled. It would take some time before grass grew over it again, but that was okay.

Somehow, in spite of everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, Alfred's remains had been recovered. Bruce had no idea how that had happened, but he was thankful for it. He wasn't going to bother asking questions either. Some things didn't really need an answer.

So now the old butler's bones were back where they belonged, buried under six feet of dirt. However, a couple extra precautions had been taken. The casket was now surrounded by a layer of cement, a precaution to ensure that anyone else that got the idea to dig up Alfred would have to really work for it. Part of Bruce had debated moving the body entirely to the family mausoleum, leaving the gravemarker here so he could continue repaying his respects here. Ultimately, he decided against it. That would just sink him into a level of paranoia that Alfred would disapprove of.

Standing next to him was Zatanna, dressed for the occasion as well. She seemed content with standing there next to him, regarding the grave.

Then she broke the silence. "So this is it for the case, I take it."

"It would seem that way," he acknowledged.

"You okay? It's been a trying time for you."

"I'll live." He paused. "I've had some baggage that I've been carrying around. I honestly hadn't realized it until Hush took Alfred."

Zatanna nodded. "Maybe you weren't aware of it, but anyone that knows you knew. I mean, you didn't visit the grave all that often, even after coming back from the dead. I know you had other things on your mind, but you never looked at this spot head on."

Bruce grunted. Trust a friend to recognize what he couldn't. "How do you feel now?" she then questioned.

He sighed. That was a good question actually. In the span of a couple hours he had run into Alfred, or what was his spirit. The old man had quite bluntly told him to knock if off and he had listened. In fact, he was feeling better for it. It was the closure he never had a chance to get.

"Honestly? Better," he told the dark-haired woman. "I know I was hallucinating in the tunnels, but Alfred came to me and helped me escape."

"That's one way to look at it. Another was that was actually Alfred."

Bruce turned his head to regard the woman with a questioning look. She was looking back at him expectantly. "From what you told me, Barbatos was down there with you. That is one bad guy, if you catch my drift. The barrier between our plane and his would have weakened enough that anything could have crossed over; in fact, any longer and we'd be in the middle of fighting whatever nightmares that demon could conjure. It was fortunate that it was Alfred that came through instead."

Bruce looked back to the grave. "He's still cleaning up behind me, even in death."

"That was meant to be comforting, you know."

He nodded his acknowledgement. "I know." Then he sighed again. "That girl, though—Ace. She tried her best in rebelling against Hurt and it cost her her life."

"Oh no, don't you go doing that now." Zatanna raised a hand and grabbed him by his chin forcing his head to look at her. The moment he was, she moved her hand to caress his cheek. "Don't replace your feelings about Alfred with someone else's."

"It's hard," he admitted, eyes dropping to stare at the ground, and subsequently their feet. "I don't know what caused her change of heart; maybe it was when Hush betrayed her; maybe it was when I patched her up and she felt honor bound to help me—I don't know. But I couldn't help her when she needed it most and I get the feeling that's the way it's been her whole life."

Zatanna then stepped towards him, moving her hand from his face to his shoulder even as she raised her other arm up to wrap it around his neck. "It's okay to feel sorry for what happened to her," she told him, "but don't wear it around your neck, alright? You have this annoying habit of trying to carry the world on your shoulders, even when you don't have to."

Hesitantly, Bruce returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around the woman's waist. "Why does someone like Alfred have to die, but someone like Hush get a second chance? Why not Alfred instead? Why not Ace?" he asked out loud. "She was manipulated and betrayed, yet the person that did it to her gets to live a long life while she's buried with him under Stonegate. Where's the fairness in that?"

This time it was Zatanna's turn to sigh. "You know better than anyone that life isn't fair. You're right, it isn't fair that the little girl and Alfred died and that psychopath was brought back. That's just the way things are unfortunately."

They stood there, holding each other, the wind kicking up at their feet. "But you have to consider that you were brought back too. As...as insane as this may sound, maybe it's because it wasn't your time, but it was for Alfred. And maybe it was Ace's time too."

"And it wasn't Hush's either?" Though she couldn't see it, a scowl was forming on Bruce's face.

"I know, like I said it's insane. But those same forces revived you before Hurt had a chance to do it, so it has to balance somewhat."

"Yeah, I'll send Ra's a thank you card for dunking me in a Lazarus Pit first. I'm sure he'll appreciate the sentiment."

"Dick," Zana insulted him good-naturedly. She pulled away from their embrace, looking up at him bemused. "Just do me a favor and don't let this guilt get the better of you. You'll bury it inside just like you did with Alfred, only to go nuts about it when someone tries to use her again."

"Is that an order?" he replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Damn straight. Now let's excuse ourselves from Alfred's bones so that I can go pack."

"But you didn't bring anything with you this time."

"Hey, a girl can take a souvenir with her, you know."

* * *

Awareness was sudden; one second he was lost in a labyrinth on nonsensical unreality, and the next Hush was back in a world that made sense.

Taking deep gasps of air, the bandaged faced man looked left, then right, but found only darkness on either side of him. Where was he? And why was he feeling a sense of claustrophobia?

An attempt to move his hands found the two limbs restricted...then it all came rushing back. Those were handcuffs, Ace was standing over him, and...where was he? It was cold, wet...alright, he had something on him that might at least illuminate this situation.

It was funny; when he had placed it in a pouch, he had thought it would come in handy only an opportunity had never appeared. Well, it was a good thing he had a small flashlight on him, one so small that it was easy to forget about it.

Twisting the little head, light beamed out, and the answer that Hush had been looking for was presented in the form of large rocks all around him. To the left, the right, even above...he was trapped. Based on the composition, this wasn't natural rock but manmade.

Okay, this small space was where he was, but his exact locations still remained a mystery. It was a meaningless question, as another, more important, one had taken the forefront of his mind.

How was he going to get out of here?

Hush gave a growl. Of course, of course it figured. From one mess to another, that was what his new life was. It looked like that this second chance was at its end too. Damn it. Damn it all!

What started off as a growl became a full-fledged yell, one that went on as long as Hush damn well wanted it before he fell back to silence. Falling back, he reclined against the rocky surface behind him and stewed, random curses slipping through his lips at the unfairness of it all.

Damn you, Hurt. Damn you, Bruce. Damn that whore, that adopted brat, those wannabes, every single one of them, damn them all to hell!

Then he felt something, a presence, brush up against his awareness. He...wasn't alone here. Hush looked forward, turning the light of the flashlight in the same direction, and found what looked like a pair of eyes watching him, alit in a pinkish-purple light. The bandage-wearing man jerked back in surprise, then relaxed as he realized that even if he wanted to, there was no way he could escape this.

So what was the point of resisting?

That's when he felt a familiarity; this presence that now faced him, he had felt it before. Back when he tore his way from an indescribable hell to return to the world of the living, that's when he had first felt it. Now here it was again, watching him, waiting for him to connect the dots.

"You...you're that...you're what Hurt worshiped, aren't you?" Hush felt the affirmation more than heard anything. It was as if this entity was directly communication to him through his brain, skipping his ears and that air between them altogether. "Then that must mean...you're Barbatos." Another sensation of affirmation. "If you're here...with me...then that must mean that...Hurt's no longer an option for you."

There was no objection to that conclusion.

It started off as a chuckle, then devolved into full blown out laughter as Hush lost it. On and on it went; if there was any hope of somehow being rescued, it was gone. Hurt was the only one who had anything invested in him, and he was gone, more than likely dead due to his own hubris and arrogance. The bastard had bit off more than he could chew and he choked on it. How rich.

As his laughter died, the dejected man composed himself and returned his attention to the entity that had not left but waited for him to get it out of his system. Oh good, it was still here. Perhaps...perhaps there was a way out of this one yet.

"So, it seems like you're out of a servant, and I need someone to keep rejuvenating this body before my soul is forced from it," Hush began conversationally. His mouth split open, showing teeth that was ready to chomp at the first morsel of hope it had found.

"I think you and I could work out an arrangement with one another."

* * *

Author's Note: So how's that for an end credit sequence? Anyway, so what comes next. We're leaving the streets of Gotham and heading for something more global in scale, so you all know what that means. It's going to be a Justice League story, and surprise surprise, it will be on this, Anonymous Void's, account. Weird, right? So if you're new, you can follow this account so that you're able to catch the first chapter of _Sins of Reckoning_. Yeah, still trying to figure that one out so you don't get a title just yet. Feel free to speculate and we'll both see you guys in the next story.

I also want to give a big thank you to Protocol115 and Archergreatestsecretagent for their continuous reviews, as well as everyone else who dropped ones.


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